Down the Darkest Road, Something Follows Me
by Vita Fidens
Summary: A/U. Cassidy Taylor is a woman attempting to move on from a painful past. When her best friend pushes her towards a handsome police officer named Randy, she thinks she's found the man of her dreams. It isn't long, however, before she realizes that she's slipped into a nightmare from which she can't awake.
1. Chapter 1

When I first met Randy, I had no idea that there was anything different about him.

Sure, he was a big guy – six-foot-five and muscular to boot – and had all manner of interesting tattoos running up his arms, but given the crowd I hung out with I didn't find that to be notable in any significant way. Otherwise, he was quiet. This was certainly notable in retrospect, given the company I kept – at the time, however, it meant that he blended into the background. In fact, when pressed, I could barely remember the guy without some sort of mental nudge from my companion.

"You know," Kara huffed impatiently, animatedly stirring her Bloody Mary with a stick of celery. "The guy with the skull tattoos on his arms?"

I racked my brains before coming up with a vague mental picture. "Yeah, kind of, I guess."

"Well, he certainly noticed _you_," she said smugly, taking a sip of her drink and staring at me over the rim of the glass. "He came up to Mike after you left and casually started a conversation about 'that pretty dark-haired girl.'"

"That's nice," I replied, attempting to sound bored. She gave me an exasperated look, and I smiled serenely. "Kara, love, don't take this the wrong way – but don't you have anything better to worry about?"

"Honey, I've been married for three years. My life is perfect and stable and boring as all hell. I need to live vicariously through you, and you haven't exactly been tearing up the town lately."

I shook my head. "I don't have the time for that," I replied, shrugging.

She sighed. "You could at least be honest with me," she admonished, although her voice was gentle. "It's ok if you're not ready."

I gave her a small smile, toying with the rim of my glass. "It still feels like yesterday," I admitted, hearing the sadness in my own voice.

She covered her hand with mine. "I'm not going to push. Just, when you're ready...there's a whole world waiting for you." I met her eyes gratefully, and she smiled. "A whole world full of buff, tattooed men who are probably really fantastic in bed. Not that I'm trying to hurry you along or anything."

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. The conversation moved on then, and I was relieved to think that Kara's attempts at a set-up were over.

I was wrong. They were just beginning.

The next attempt came about two weeks after that. I had foolishly thought that Kara had abandoned her designs on setting me up, and so I didn't hesitate to answer the phone when she called. That proved to be a mistake, as she began immediately haranguing me about coming to a 'casual get-together' at her house.

"Come _on_, you have to be there!"

"All right, all right," I grumbled good-naturedly. "I'll call Billy and see if I can trade my shift."

"Yes!" Kara exclaimed, way too excited about the fact that I was making it to her daughter's second birthday party. "She'll be there," I heard her say to someone else in the room.

"Who are you talking to?" I demanded.

"Uh...Mike."

"And why is Mike so concerned with my presence at Amelia's party?" I had a sudden idea that the reason for my presence had a lot less to do with my awesome gift-giving abilities and a lot more to do with a buff, tattooed guy.

"Because you're our friend and he loves you?"

"Nice try," I replied, shaking my head although I was still smiling. "Let me guess...Randy is going to be there."

"He's a really nice guy, Cass," Kara finally dropped the pretense. "Like, a really nice guy. Just meet him and see if there's a little bit of a spark? Just a tiny one?"

I debated internally for a moment. If I refused, Kara would just keep trying to throw the two of us together. If, however, I gave in and met him and told her that he wasn't my type – which I knew he wouldn't be; nobody was right now – then maybe she'd back off a little bit.

"You win this round," I teased her. "_If_ I can get off work, I will be there and you can make all the introductions you want."

"Oh goodie goodie goodie!" I could practically picture Kara jumping up and down with excitement, and subsequently had to hold back a fit of laughter. "You're going to love him; I guarantee it. He's _such_ a sweetheart."

"I'll reserve my judgment until I actually meet him. Now let me try to swap my shift away. I'll call you back."

Resigned to my fate, I called my boss and managed to switch my shift for this Saturday to the following Saturday. I waited a few minutes before I called Kara back, completely reluctant to go through with this plan of hers.

I steeled my resolve, telling myself that it was just one meeting, just one introduction, just one attempted set-up in what had already been a long line of attempted set-ups. I'd gotten through this before, and I'd get through it again.

Just this one, simple introduction and I could get back to my regular life.


	2. Chapter 2

The appointed day arrived, and I made my way into Kara and Mike's backyard with little hope for a fun, non-awkward kind of day.

I glanced around and was happy to note that Randy hadn't arrived, even though the party was in full swing. Maybe he wasn't going to be able to make it after all, and I could just relax and enjoy the day without any of Kara's knowing nudges and attempts to push me into conversation.

I loved the woman – she'd been my rock for the past year – but it was getting a little bit old at this point.

Forcing myself to push all of this out of my mind until a later date, I decided that I was going to have fun today. The sun was filtering down on us through white, puffy clouds; I had the day off, and there was a giant cake waiting to be devoured. It was an easy decision to make.

I was doing very well with this process when I saw a police officer slip in through the gate. I was momentarily baffled – we had certainly been a lot more raucous than we were being right now, and the neighbors were generally pretty understanding. It registered after a moment that this police officer was, in fact, Randy.

"Don't you just love a man in uniform?" Kara asked, following my gaze.

"You didn't tell me he was a cop," I replied, turning to meet her eyes.

She shrugged. "I figured it was something he would tell you when you inevitably decided that you needed to have dinner with him." She nodded in the direction of Randy, back behind my shoulder. "Don't look now, but your destiny is walking towards us."

I raised an eyebrow. "Quit being melodramatic," I muttered.

"Ladies," a deep voice said slowly behind us. I plastered a smile on my face and turned around, my eyes going up – and up – to meet amused, sparkling blue ones.

"You're late," Kara chastised him, stepping forward to give him a hug.

"Duty called," he replied easily, gesturing down at his uniform. He paused and looked back at me. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Randy." He extended a hand and I took it, shaking.

"Cassidy."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Cassidy," he replied in that same slow, easy way. I liked it. He grinned, and I'll admit – my heart did a little stutter step in my chest. He turned back to Kara. "Mind if I go in and change?"

He walked away, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder at me and smiling. "Still have any protests?" Kara teased.

I had no way of telling her that I had a thousand, but that they were all temporarily suspended the moment he'd smiled at me.

I expected that he would come back out and make a beeline for me, but I was further surprised by this man when he...acted completely normal. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, waiting for the inevitable awkward, nervous conversation – but he left me pretty much alone. He smiled at me a few times when our eyes met, but he didn't take that as a sign to come and talk to me.

I watched him play around with Amelia, carrying her easily on his shoulders while he sipped a beer. She called him Uncle Randy.

I don't care what kind of woman you are – seeing something like that warms your heart, even if it's just a little bit. I found myself with a favorable opinion of him, in spite of my absolute insistence on finding him completely unremarkable.

Goddamnit.

I tried to tear my attention away from him, much to the amusement of Kara. "I don't want to say I told you so," she said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "But..."

"But what? Yes, he seems nice," I replied, perhaps a little defensively. "Still don't know anything about the guy. We could be completely incompatible."

"You could be. But you're not. Why don't you go talk to him?"

I shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't even know what I'd say. It's been so long since I've done this."

"Cass," she started gently, and I knew I'd hate whatever came out of her mouth next. "It's been two years, sweetheart. Stop using that excuse."

I swallowed hard. It was all suddenly too much; I couldn't take this place. I couldn't take Kara's sympathetic, pitying eyes. I couldn't take the idea of that handsome man in the corner, and I certainly couldn't stand the thought of going and speaking to him like he was a potential mate.

"I have to go," I muttered, rudely shoving her arm off of me and hurrying towards the gate.

I heard her calling my name as I walked away, obviously worried, but I refused to look back.


	3. Chapter 3

I knew that I'd acted like a jerk, but part of me was still so agitated with Kara that I didn't pick up her calls for the next few days.

So what that it had been two years? I was allowed to mourn. I was allowed to wallow. I wasn't drinking or putting myself in danger or anything else – I was just living my life as normally as I possibly could, and how I chose to go about that was none of her business.

I gripped my steering wheel tightly as these thoughts ran through my head for the millionth time since the party. I was fine. My _life_ was fine. I didn't care what she thought.

My mind hit a different track as I passed a police car and saw that I was doing forty-eight in a thirty. Shit. I slammed on my brakes, but the damage was done. He immediately made a U-turn and turned on his lights.

Resigned to my fate, I pulled over and dug out my license and registration. This was all I needed today, I thought glumly.

"Afternoon, ma'am," an impossibly familiar voice said, and I whipped my head around to meet Randy's eyes. They immediately lit up in recognition, and a smile broke out on his face. "Cassidy, hey!"

"Hey, Randy," I replied, forcing my lips up. "How's it going?"

"It's going," he answered. "Talk about an awkward meeting, huh?"

I laughed. "Yeah. Although I've had worse."

"Any idea why I stopped you?"

Now I knew exactly why he stopped me, but I further knew to play dumb with the police. "No sir, I can't say I do."

"You have a brake light out."

"I do?" I was genuinely surprised to hear that.

He nodded. "I can give you a ticket, or I can follow you to the service station a friend of mine owns down the road and make sure you get it fixed. What do you say?"

I knew I was going to kick myself for this, but I had to say it. "Randy, really...don't cut me any breaks because you know me. If you need to give me a ticket, I totally understand."

He shook his head. "Same chance I'd offer anybody," he replied easily. "Brake light isn't a big deal to me, unless the person I've stopped is being an asshole." He paused. "Do you intend to be an asshole?" There was a note of teasing to his voice.

"I think I'll go with no on that," I answered. "What's the name of the service station?"

He gave me directions, and we were off shortly. I wasn't necessarily looking forward to hanging out while they changed a bulb and likely overcharged me for it, but it was infinitely better than paying the ticket fine at city hall.

To my surprise, Randy jumped out of the car and began speaking with one of the blue-clad mechanics before I had a chance to even put my car in park. I met up with him halfway back to the police cruiser.

"Just drop your keys on your seat. They'll take care of it."

"Thanks. Is there any place I could sit and wait?"

He shrugged. "I was actually hoping you'd come have lunch with me. I was about to go on break when I ran across you." My heart sank, and it must have been written all over my face. "What's wrong?"

I licked my lips. "Look, I am so grateful you didn't give me a ticket. I just..." I looked at him helplessly, watching his brow furrow. "I'm just not in the market for a relationship," I finally elected to say. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

He nodded, the right side of his lip curling up into a half-smile. "And that's fine. But are you in the market for lunch?" His smile spread across his face and he shook his head slowly. "That's all I'm after, Cass. My partner's out sick and I just don't want to eat lunch alone."

It took me a minute, but I laughed out of sheer embarrassment. "You must think I'm a total nutcase," I said, closing my eyes and fervently wishing that I could disappear.

"Nah," he answered. "I meet a lot of those in my line of work. You're definitely not one of them."

"Thank you," I was able to say, meeting his eyes briefly. "I'd like to have lunch with you."

He gestured towards the cruiser. "Hop in."


	4. Chapter 4

"There's my favorite man in uniform," a rather rotund lady in her mid-forties greeted us as we walked into a dusty diner a few miles away. "Take a seat wherever you want, handsome."

"Thanks Audrey," he grinned, raising a hand. I swore I could see him start to blush as he led me to a booth out of the way of the other patrons.

"Come here often?" I asked as we sat, unable to suppress a smile.

"Every now and again," he laughed.

"You want your usual, honey?" The rotund lady moved faster and more silently than I thought humanly possible. I had a brief mental image of her going through ninja training with a tray full of pancakes balanced on one hand before I shook that particular thought out of my head. Bursting out laughing would be absolutely inappropriate.

"Yes, please," Randy answered in the affirmative.

"And you, miss?"

I placed my order quickly, unable to help noticing that she was a little cold towards me.

"Audrey, this is my friend Cassidy," he introduced us after realizing that she was staring daggers at me. "I took her to get her car fixed and asked her to join me for lunch. Dean's out sick today."

"More like out hungover today," she clucked. "Wish all of our finest had your work ethic, Officer Orton."

"Oh stop being so formal with me, sweetheart," he grinned, winking at her. "You know it's just Randy to you." That sent her into a right tizzy, blushing like a schoolgirl, and when she fluttered away I swore her feet weren't hitting the ground.

Randy was smiling widely at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. "You old flirt," I teased.

He shrugged, trying to pull back his smile. "She's one of my favorite people. She doesn't take shit from anybody, myself included."

"It's an admirable quality to have,"I admitted, wishing that I had a bit more of it myself.

"Comes in handy," he agreed before we fell silent for a few moments. "Listen, Cass," he spoke up. "I did have an ulterior motive in inviting you out."

I bit my lower lip. I should have known. "OK. What's up?"

He hesitated for a few moments. "I know you left the party pretty upset the other day, and from the way Kara was talking...did I do something to upset you?"

I felt my head drop before I forced it back up to look at him. "No," I replied, shaking my head. "I am so sorry that you thought that."

"So...what was it?"

My heart was slamming against my ribcage, and I did _not_ want to go there – but the sooner it was out in the open, the sooner we could move past it.

"Kara, you know...she's got a heart of gold," I rushed. He nodded in agreement. "She mentioned to me that you were asking Mike about me; that you thought I was pretty. So she was trying to...orchestrate a situation where we could meet and get to know each other."

His grin turned wry. "A set-up," he said flatly.

"A set-up," I agreed.

He leaned back in his chair. "God I hate those."

"Me too," I replied, relief flooding through me. "So when she started pushing at the party, I just..lost my patience, I guess."

He nodded. "I understand that. If you don't mind my saying, though, that seems like a pretty extreme reaction."

I looked away, embarrassed. "Yeah," I said in a small voice. "She said something that just really upset me."

When I finally got up the courage to look back at him, he was staring down at his clasped hands. "What," he said slowly, looking up at me with eyes full of sympathy and concern, "aren't you telling me about yourself and your situation?" His eyes bored into me, and even though they were kind, I found that I couldn't speak for a moment. "Bad break-up? Crazy ex? Six children?" He pressed, trying to keep his tone light.

I licked my lips. "My husband...he passed away a few years ago." I glanced up at him. "Car accident," I answered his next question automatically.

He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's all right," I replied dismissively, feeling tears fill my eyes anyway. "I just...Kara keeps pushing, and I'm not ready yet."

He sighed. "It's really not any of my business," he started thoughtfully, "but she was just doing what she thought was best for you. Hard to fault her for that."

"I know," I admitted. "I just really wish she'd stop pushing." I could see it on the tip of his tongue; he was going to tell me that she was right to push, that it had been far too long and I should be done with my mourning. I rushed forward and changed the topic before I could hear those words yet again. Thankfully, he moved along with me and we left that highly personal and emotional topic alone for the rest of our lunch.

He was easy to talk to, I was surprised to find. I thought it might have something to do with how calm he was. He talked slowly, his deep voice soothing, even when he was telling me highly-animated stories about his time on the force.

"We should probably get you back," he finally said, glancing down at his watch with obvious reluctance. "And I should probably get back to protecting and serving." He paid the check, allowing no arguments from me, and we ambled back to the cruiser.

He dropped me off at the shop and I thanked him, genuinely, for lunch. I had actually had a fantastic time. He waved me off casually and said he'd see me around, taking off quickly.

I figured out why he was in such a hurry when I went to pay and was told that it had already been taken care of by "Officer Orton."

Shaking my head, but unable to keep the smile from my face, I continued on with the rest of my day. Although, much like Audrey from the diner, I doubt that my feet touched the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

I reluctantly picked up the phone and called Kara that night. She answered as if everything was normal, and we chatted for several minutes before I got around to the reason I called.

"Hey, so...I had lunch with Randy today."

I was rewarded by silence at the other end of the phone. "It's a long story," I plowed ahead, uncomfortable with her lack of comment.

"Oh you are not going to just skip over all that," she laughed. "Spill."

I relayed my afternoon to her as quickly as I could. "Then I went to pay," I finished, "and the mechanic told me that Randy had taken care of it."

"Wow."

"Yeah. He really didn't have to do that. So I'd like to do something nice for him, and I was wondering – since he and Mike are friends – if you had any suggestions."

"Victoria's Secret. Something that pushes the girls up and together."

I rolled my eyes, although I was smiling. "I was thinking more along the lines of a six-pack."

"I'm pretty sure he already has one of those," she said thoughtfully.

"_Of beer_."

"Oh! Well why didn't you say so? I'm sure he'd appreciate that." She paused. "You can bring it to Margarita Monday, if you'd like. We can get it to him."

That's when I knew that we were truly all right after my outburst. Still, I doubted I'd ever forgive myself if I didn't at least try to explain.

"I'm really sorry about the other day. I'm just...I still don't feel ready, you know? It's been a long time, I understand," I rushed before she could get a word in. "It's just..." I shrugged helplessly.

"There's no handbook on grief," Kara replied gently. "And I'm sorry I keep pushing you when you say you're not ready. I need to be better about listening – you know yourself better than anyone. Just...I wish you'd try, Cass. It's what Pete would have wanted."

I smiled. "You didn't know him."

"I feel like I do, through you. And I know he loved you more than anything in this world, and that he wouldn't want you to lock yourself away. In fact, he'd probably be dragging you out of the house, kicking and screaming."

I had to laugh. It was what Pete would have done. He had a way of making me take care of myself, even when I didn't want to do it. Kara was the same way.

"I love you," I told her around the lump in my throat. "And I promise, I'm going to try."

"I know you will."

Then our conversation moved on to other things, and before long I was laughing and joking like I always did with her. Our friendship was effortless at times, and it happened to be everything I needed in my life.

Still, as I went to bed that night, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I should reach for more.

I hadn't been with anyone since Pete had died. I'd wanted to, and at times I'd even managed to talk myself into going out and finding someone. I thought it would be a way to push the pain away; to push away the memory of sleeping and waking up next to the man I loved. I always backed out, though. After two years, I'd settled into my little routine.

But if I could admit it, I knew that my life was lacking. I was so careful about guarding myself and guarding my heart that I shut down anyone who tried. Kara was the only exception.

I just never wanted to feel that kind of pain again. I thought it was reasonable at the time, but I was starting to see how wrong it was. There was no sure way to guard against pain. It was either the pain of love or the pain of loneliness, and I'd suffered the pain of loneliness for the past two years. I knew that it would kill me faster than love would.

I rolled over, chewing my lip. I liked Randy. There. I'd said it, goddamnit. I liked him and his slow, easy way of talking. I liked his blue eyes. I liked his smile and his pecs and his...everything. I liked his face, and thinking of it that way just made me chuckle.

And the best part? The most awesomely terrifying part? He liked me, too.

"Pete," I murmured, feeling a little bit silly. "Listen. I love you. I miss you every day." I paused. "If this is ok, if you think I should try...just...give me some kind of sign, ok? Knowing you it'll be this big glaring road sign saying 'For Christ's sake Cass, I got a big glowing road sign, so do it,' but it can be anything...anything at all, so that I just know...know that you're ok. So I can know that I'm going to be ok."

And I swear to God, the minute I fell silent – there was a loud thump right outside my window. I flew out of bed and rushed to see if there was anyone there, but I couldn't see a thing.

"Last time I ask you for a sign," I teased him as I returned to bed. "I love you, Peter. I always will. Nothing's going to change that."


	6. Chapter 6

For the first time in a very long time, I felt fantastic.

I wasn't sure if it was the sunshine, the company, or the gigantic margarita I had in my hand, but I also decided not to question it.

Kara and I were gossiping and cracking jokes. I delicately avoided the topic of Randy and my visit from Peter, feeling a little bit silly admitting that I'd asked my dead husband for dating advice. It was a topic, however, that would not be denied.

"There's trouble if I ever saw it," a familiar voice intruded in our gossip. I turned my head to see Randy and Mike making their way towards us. "Two young ladies with margaritas on a Monday afternoon." He turned to Mike. "I think we're in for a world of hurt."

Mike grinned. "Always are with these two."

"Especially because I have a bone to pick with you, Officer Orton," I replied, false anger filling my voice.

He raised his eyebrow. "Should I run?" He asked Mike, who studied me intently before answering.

"Amble," he replied thoughtfully. "She's almost done with that one, and Cass is a lightweight. She'll weave and fall over before forgetting why she's chasing you and searching for another margarita."

"Very funny," I replied, sticking my tongue out. Randy grinned and stepped closer.

"All right. I'll suffer your wrath like a good man. What did I do?"

I smiled. "You really didn't have to pay for my brake light. Thank you."

He shrugged, although I could see his smile spread wider on his face. "All part of protecting and serving, ma'am."

"Still. I appreciated the gesture. I'll have to do something to make it up to you."

He smiled. "Stop speeding," he teased.

My mouth fell open. "You knew?!"

He laughed. "If you're going to speed, at least don't slam your brakes on after I pass you."

I hung my head. "That's how you knew my bulb was out."

"That's how I knew your bulb was out," he confirmed.

"Why didn't you give me a ticket?"

He shrugged, smiling. "I try not to give pretty girls tickets. It really narrows my dating pool down."

"I don't know; I think Audrey would still love you even if you gave her twenty tickets."

His smile grew wider and he stared at me for a minute before shaking his head, laughing. "You've got me there." He paused. "So should I give you a ticket next time?"

"Maybe just don't let me out of it so easy."

"Make you work for it?"

With those words, a hot jolt ran down my spine and settled right between my thighs. I had horrifically dirty thoughts about what 'working for it' would entail in the span of a second, and then I forced an answer out of my mouth.

"Depends on what your definition of 'working for it' is."

He grinned wickedly, tilting his head to stare at me hungrily. "I could think of a few things that are included in that category," he replied, his voice low. "Washing my car. Making me dinner. Calling me your supreme lord and master."

I laughed. "I think I could handle any one of those."

"Good to know."

Everyone was silent for a few moments, and I could see Kara grinning at the two of us. "What are you boys doing here, anyway?" She asked, breaking the silence. "You know Margarita Monday is a sacred tradition."

"Right up there with the high holy days," Mike replied dryly. "Randy's going to help me with my bike."

Kara wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. You boys have fun getting all sweaty and dirty," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

Randy grinned at me. "You ladies enjoy. I'll see you around, Cass."

"See you," I replied, watching him walk away.

"Hate to see him go but love to watch him leave, eh?" Kara asked when he was out of earshot.

I expected a deluge of questions, but she was quiet on the subject. Finally, as the sun was sinking on the horizon in a glorious blaze of orange and purple, and Kara's babysitter called to let us know she was bringing Amelia home, I reluctantly stood and began making my way towards the door.

We hugged at her front door, holding each other for a long time before I broke away and started walking towards my car.

Mike and Randy were still in the garage, puzzling over some shiny metal pieces and covered in grease. I called my farewells to them and opened the car door, surprised when Randy came rushing out to stop me.

"I think I should do something silly, like get your phone number," he said lightly, although I could sense the slight anxiety behind his words.

I grinned. "Just in case you need to hear someone call you supreme lord and master?" I teased.

He laughed. "Something like that."

I could have said no. I could have reminded him that I wasn't looking for a relationship. But those sparkling blue eyes, those little dimples in his cheeks, even the grease-stained white t-shirt he was wearing...they all temporarily blinded me, and I reached out for his phone to program my number into it.


	7. Chapter 7

I expected the usual game of 'wait around a week' before Randy got in touch with me – so imagine my surprise when my phone dinged just as I was getting ready for bed.

'Good to see you tonight, Cass.' He used proper capitalization and punctuation; be still my heart! 'Hope to see you again soon.'

'Same here, my supreme lord and master,' I replied.

'Haha. That's only for when you want to get out of the next ticket.'

'Phew. I was worried. That's a lot to type at the end of each text.'

'Precisely why I'm saving it until you really need it.' There was a brief pause. 'What are you up to?'

'Just getting ready for bed. I lead an exciting life. How about you?'

'Sounds thrilling to me. I'm just gearing up for the night shift. I get to drive around until five am and then go do some paperwork.'

'Yuck. Please be safe out there.'

I hoped I said the right thing; it was a long while before his reply came through. 'I will, pretty lady. You get some rest, and have sweet dreams. Drop me a line when you're awake; maybe we can grab breakfast and I'll regale you with tales of my night.'

I smiled. 'I'd like that. Goodnight, Officer. Feel safer already knowing you're out there.'

'Goodnight, beautiful. Feel better already knowing I'll see you in the morning.'

I was blushing. I was actually blushing in the privacy of my own bedroom. I shook my head, but I couldn't shake the ridiculous smile off of my face. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep with it still smeared across my lips.

I woke entirely too soon to the sound of my phone ringing beside my ear.

"Hello?" I answered groggily, barely able to suppress a yawn.

"Are you still sleeping?" A tired voice said teasingly in my ear. It brought an immediate smile to my lips.

"What time is it?"

"Seven thirty. Just got finished with my shift. Can I entice you out of bed by promising food?"

"Could you bring the food _to_ bed? That would really be perfect."

He chuckled. "I _could_, but you'd probably still have to get up to let me in the door."

I shook my head. "Proof that there are no fool-proof, perfect plans," I sighed. "Give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll meet you. Where are we going?"

He gave me the name of a small café I'd heard of but had never managed to make the trip to, and some general directions. I threw on clothing as quickly as I could, running my fingers through my tangled mane of hair before stepping out the door and making my way to him.

He was already there when I walked in, sitting in a booth in the back and sipping a cup of coffee. He smiled when he saw me and raised a hand in greeting, which I sheepishly returned before hurrying towards him. My heart was suddenly pounding in my chest as I slid into the booth across from him.

"Coffee?" He asked by way of greeting, reaching for my cup and filling it before I could answer.

I laughed. "How did you know I was going to say yes?"

"That sleepy voice on the phone," he replied, grinning. "That one that made me want to come and crawl into bed with you and sleep the day away."

I could feel myself starting to blush again, my heart slamming brutally in my chest cavity. "How was your night?" I elected to ask, effectively changing the subject.

He humored me, graciously, and we began to talk about other things. I could sense just how close I was to a tipping point, where everything would swing and I would find myself pursuing something I wasn't sure I could handle with this man.

I tried to shove those thoughts aside and focused on just hanging out with him, like I would any friend. That's all he was at this point, I lied to myself. I shouldn't feel awkward or silly about spending time with a friend.

Ridiculous, yes – but it worked. I gradually relaxed.

When the time came for us to pay up and leave, he snatched the check from the table. "It would wound my manly pride if I let you pay for me," he insisted.

I laughed. "I certainly wouldn't want that. But please – let me get next time, all right?"

He gave me a little grin, his eyes lighting up at the words 'next time.' "All right. You get next time. I'll make sure to get something expensive," he teased.

We walked out slowly, me still waking up and Randy winding down from being awake all night.

He surprised me almost the moment we reached my car by wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. "Are you sure," he said in a low voice that sent a shiver down my spine, "that I can't come and crawl into bed with you?"

Then, shattering my fantasy of just being friends, he leaned forward and tried to kiss me. I was so startled that I pulled back, and he immediately looked embarrassed, dropping his hands from my waist.

"I am so sorry," I said immediately, struggling to pull back tears of mortification.

He shook his head. "My fault. You already told me you weren't in the market for a relationship. I just…with everything, I thought…."

I nodded. "I can understand your confusion. I…I like you, Randy. I like you a hell of a lot, in fact. I just…need things to move really, really slowly."

He studied me for a minute. "What does that mean?" He didn't sound angry, or upset, merely curious.

"It means maybe we can be friends for now? Hang out?" I realized I sounded stupid, asking this fine, grown-ass man to be my buddy. "If you're not willing to do that, I totally get it. There are probably a thousand less crazy women who would love to be in my shoes right now."

He managed a small smile. "And none of them would even remotely interest me. I'm happy to be your friend, Cass."

I hesitated. "Not really the reaction I expected."

He shrugged. "I want to stick around. I like being around you. Besides…I want to be the first person you think of when you _are_ ready for something." He stepped towards me and bent to kiss my cheek. "I'm a very patient man. I can wait a long time for something I want."


	8. Chapter 8

"It sounds like a line from a Nicholas Sparks novel," Kara said flatly.

"Swear to God, it's what he said."

It had been a week since Randy and I had discussed this outside that small café. During that time, I'd seen him at least once a day and had texted or spoken to him on the phone constantly. I hated to admit it, but I'd been enjoying every minute of it.

She shook her head. "Girl, he's got it _baaaad_. Never heard Randy talk like that; never thought I would." She paused. "Seeing as you're telling me all this, I take it you want some advice?"

I shrugged. "I guess I just want to know if I'm doing the right thing. I feel bad having this guy just waiting on me, you know? I love talking to him, I love hanging out with him, but I'm not sure I'd ever be ready for anything more than that."

"It's his call, Cass. He apparently likes you enough that he thinks it's worthwhile. But you know that means you two will never just be friends. Are you ok with that?"

I opened my mouth to answer, and then closed it abruptly. Logically, I'd already known this. But Kara asked a very important question – was I ok with the idea that this man was waiting to become more to me than just a platonic relationship?

"Looks like another meeting of the minds," Mike's amused voice interrupted before I could truly think about my answer. "Sorry for the intrusion, but Cass – please answer your goddamn phone. Randy is irritated."

I turned back and saw Mike on the house phone, shaking his head. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and saw six missed calls and fourteen text messages.

"It was on silent, sorry!"

Mike relayed this message and Kara waved him off.

"What's so urgent?"

"He wants to hang out tonight, apparently," I said, quickly scrolling through the messages. "There's a movie at…oh…that's why he was in a rush." I grinned at her. "Starts in like half an hour and it's the only showing tonight."

"Go on," she said good-naturedly. "I'll just be here by myself, crying into my margarita." She paused. "Cass…seriously, though. He'll never just be your friend. Think about that, ok?"

"I will," I promised, giving her a hasty kiss on the cheek.

I dialed Randy's number as I walked to my car.

"I'm already on my way," was how he elected to answer the phone. "I figured you and Kara were having Margarita Monday. You shouldn't drive."

I smiled. "All right, Officer. What's your ETA?"

"Look up and to your right."

I laughed. "You are good."

"All part of my job description. See you in a few."

He rolled to a stop at the end of their driveway, and I bounded to the car. "You're a tough lady to get a hold of," he said, gently wagging his finger as I buckled my seatbelt.

"Sorry, sorry," I replied. "I must have left my phone on silent after work. Won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't."

His tone of voice was so serious that I looked up to gauge his sincerity. After a second, he smiled at me. "Did you and Kara have fun?"

"We did," I said, trying to shake off the crawling feeling I had from his demand.

"Talk about me?"

"Excessively," I admitted, grinning at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask?"

"Nothing you need to know," I replied airily. "Girl talk."

He grinned and raised his hands slightly off the steering wheel in a gesture of indifference. "Fair enough, pretty lady. Thanks for taking off to spend some time with me."

I shrugged. "I like spending time with you. I don't get to do it nearly as much as I'd like, with all your crazy hours."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I know. Just a lot of overtime going around lately – one of the guys is out for a few weeks. It's hard to pass up."

"I understand. Besides, that means I don't have to feel absolutely terrible when you insist on buying me things."

He chuckled. "You're starting to get the hang of spending time with me, aren't you?"

"Something like that," I replied, pointedly ignoring the way his eyes slid to me. Wisely, he didn't say anything further on the subject and we were shortly settled into our seats in a nearly-empty movie theatre.

We chatted idly for a bit, waiting for the movie to start. I was relieved to note that Randy was starting to seem a bit less agitated the more time we spent together. I dismissed his earlier comment as stress or annoyance – it happened to the best of us.

The movie started with a particularly gruesome scene, and I immediately huddled against his chest to hide my eyes. He laughed. "I thought you liked scary movies?"

I peeked and hid my face again. "I do, because I love being scared," I replied. "So far this is an excellent movie." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, still smiling. "Tell me when it's over?" I asked, staring at the curve of his neck.

"If you promise to stay right here, I will."

A scream pierced the theatre, and I winced. "I don't think that will be a problem."

I spent most of the next two hours cradled against Randy's chest, occasionally feeling him laugh at me during the absolutely horrifying parts. "Shut up," I grumbled, lightly whapping him on the arm before hiding my eyes again.

"You're adorable," he said simply, lightly kissing my forehead.

"Go ahead, laugh at my pain," I teased.

"Never."

For the second time that night, his tone of voice made me look up. Our eyes met, and we both froze for a brief moment. "Oh Hell," he said softly, before leaning down and pressing his lips tightly against mine.


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn't the best way to handle the situation, but I immediately stood up and booked it out of that theatre.

"Cass-" Randy called behind me, but I kept going. I didn't want to deal with this. I didn't want to think about what it meant, and I certainly didn't want to think about what was now going to happen. I just wanted out of that room.

Looking back later, I'd laugh at the idea that I was running from a police officer. The same thing I'd always yelled at the idiots on _Cops_ for doing, although I dare say my situation was slightly different. I wasn't, in fact, attempting to discard methamphetamine while running and then proclaiming my innocence. I was just running away from an innocent kiss.

Randy, of course, caught up to me easily. "Cass," he said from right behind me, taking my shoulder and spinning me back to face him. I immediately whapped him on the chest, refusing to meet his eyes. He pulled me into a hug. "I'm sorry," he said into my hair. "I'm really sorry."

I hit him a few more times, with no real force behind the blows. "You just had to, didn't you?" I finally said, my voice rough with the inevitable tears.

"It just…happened," he replied. "I didn't think about it. I just did what felt right."

I stepped back from him, shaking my head. "You know that's not right. You know that I'm not ready; I told you that."

He nodded miserably. "I know." He paused. "Come on. Let me take you home, ok?" He reached for my arm, and I tucked them both into my body. My head was a swirling mess of fear and sadness and just a little bit of joy. I had no idea how to comprehend this situation.

We walked out to the car in total, uncomfortable silence and began the drive back to my house. Randy kept glancing over at me, obviously hoping that I'd start speaking. I didn't know what to say.

"Cass," he finally said, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry if I crossed a line with you. You know I…I like you quite a bit. It's hard for me to be close to you and not touch you, not kiss you. I'm surprised I was able to hold back this long."

I waited a moment. "You told me you were ok with moving slowly," I replied, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice. "But you're not, are you?"

"It's been a couple of weeks now. I see you every day. We talk incessantly. I just _now_ tried to kiss you. If you're not ok with that…honey, that's not slow. That's glacial."

I nodded. "You're right." I hesitated. "It's all just so new to me. It's been a really long time." He looked relieved when I glanced over at him and smiled. I covered his hand with mine. "Thanks for being patient."

His shoulders dropped visibly. "I told you I'd wait as long as it took. I'm sorry I rushed ahead a bit."

"It's…it's ok. Really." I tried to think of the best way to phrase my next statement. "Just go easy on me. I'm going to be kind of dating and relationship stupid at first."

"It's to be expected," he replied gently. "After all, it's been two years since Pete. But, Cass…I have to tell you that I don't care. Just keep being you. I'm crazy about you."

I could feel myself blushing, a small smile falling on my lips as I looked away from him. "I think you're all right," I teased.

"Just all right?"

I glanced up. "Maybe you're pretty fantastic."

He nodded, smiling. "Maybe, huh?"

"Maybe."

"If I buy you dinner, would I be absolutely pretty fantastic?"

"It'd be a good start."

And, miraculously, things returned to that simple, easy way we had with each other. We joked and laughed over dinner, the conversation returning to less serious topics. He held my hand the entire time we weren't eating, and I found that I didn't mind.

Something was sticking in the back of my brain, though – something about our conversation that felt slightly off, and I couldn't put my finger on what it was until we were pulling into my driveway and he walked me up to my front door.

I think I surprised him by wrapping my arms around him and standing on my toes to lightly peck his lips. He grinned and lightly kissed me again. "I'll come get you in the morning, take you to pick up your car. Is that ok?"

I smiled and nodded. "Just give me a call."

"I will." He bent and kissed me again, gently pushing his tongue into my mouth. It had been awhile, but those sorts of things are like riding a bike – you never forget.

He groaned against my mouth and quickly pulled away. "Head on inside," he said, "before I try to follow you in like a stray dog and beg to sleep on your bed with you."

I laughed quietly and gave him one last, light kiss before I turned the key in the door and stepped through. It hit me suddenly, and I turned back. "Randy?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you know Pete's name?"

He looked taken aback. "What?"

"When we were talking in the car, you said that you knew it had been two years since Pete. I don't remember telling you that."

He shrugged. "I must have heard it somewhere. Maybe Mike or Kara? Why do you ask?"

I shook my head. "No reason. I just thought I was going crazy and forgot that I'd told you." I paused, searching his face for some hint, but he remained completely blank. "No big deal," I lied, grinning. "Good night."

"Good night, sweetheart," he replied in a low voice, smiling at me – although the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

That was the first night I realized that Officer Orton might not be exactly what he seemed.


	10. Chapter 10

I tried to shove my misgivings about Randy and starting a relationship with him aside. It seemed to work for a little while. I was happy. At least, I was up until the first night he really pushed me to have sex with him.

We'd been officially 'dating' for about two weeks at the time. We were watching a movie in his apartment before he lost interest halfway through and began to make it obvious that he was more interested in me. It started out innocently enough – a soft kiss on the neck, his hand sliding up my thigh.

"Cass," he murmured in my ear, lightly flicking the lobe with his tongue. I turned to him and he grinned. "Let's turn this off." He reached for the remote and clicked the TV off before I could say anything.

He began to kiss me more intently, his lips skipping from my lips to my neck and down to my collarbone, his fingers tracing down between my breasts. His breathing was just slightly labored, his hot breath blowing across my neck with increasing frequency the longer he touched me.

His hand began to play with the button on my jeans, finally popping it open. I squirmed away from him, shooting him a reproachful look. He reached for me and pulled me back to him, kissing me insistently as he lowered me onto my back. "You're killing me," he pulled away to whisper in my ear. "I'm so pent-up that I can't think straight." He pressed against me, and even through his jeans I could feel that he was rock hard. "Come on, baby. Help me out."

I put two hands on his chest. "Not tonight, ok?" I replied, hearing the anxiety in my voice. "I'm just…I'm not ready."

His head dropped and after a moment he pulled it up to stare at me. He didn't look at all understanding or amused – he looked angry. "You're not ready," he said slowly, his voice dripping with disdain. "You should get that printed on a t-shirt so you can wear it every-fucking-where you go."

I glared at him. "Look, I get that you're frustrated –"

He laughed. "You do, huh? What gave it away? The fact that I'm pressing my dick against you begging you to let me fuck you?"

I struggled out of his grip and off the couch. "You don't have to act like an asshole," I snapped. "Call me when you're done being a prick."

I stormed off in grand fashion, flinging the door open – only to have a large hand come from behind me and shove it shut again. He swung me around and pressed me up against the wall. "You don't give the orders around here, pretty lady," he said, wagging his finger in my face angrily. "So why don't _you_ stop being a bitch?"

"After you," I replied snidely.

His hand came up quickly and I had a brief moment of terror thinking he was going to hit me. I winced as his fist flew and landed on the wall beside my head, creating a large hole in the drywall. "Drop the attitude, Cass," he snapped. "Drop it before I do something I regret."

My mouth had suddenly gone dry, and all I could do was stare at him, wide-eyed.

"Now," he said in a low voice, "if you're smart, you'll march your ass right back to that couch and sit there like a good girl. Do you understand me?"

It took me a minute to nod. He nodded back in reply and then stepped away from me. I considered it for a minute before I took off for the door, managing to make it out to the hallway and sprinting for the exit.

With shaking hands, I unlocked my car and jumped in, slamming and locking the door shut behind me. My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely get the key into the ignition, but I finally did. I looked around wildly – Randy hadn't followed me. I could see him in the doorway of the common entrance, arms crossed over his chest and a look of deep disapproval on his face. He shook his head at me as I drove away.

I had a difficult time sleeping that night. My phone would go off every few minutes – Randy would call, but he would never leave a message. I elected not to answer it.

I decided that I was done with him. Any man who raised a hand towards me…well, that was intolerable. It was a deal-breaker. And Officer Orton of all men should know better than that.

After a terrible night of sleep, I walked out to go to work and found my purse and a vase full of flowers on my patio. There was a note – 'Beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl. Please call. Love, Randy'

I could feel my lip curling in disgust. I picked up my purse but left the flowers there. If he drove by, I wanted him to see them rotting and dying out here.

My work day was uneventful, except for the constant buzzing of phone calls in my pocket. My phone finally died around one that afternoon, and the stillness was blissful.

The calmness wasn't going to last, however. When I made it home that night, a uniformed police officer was waiting at my door.


	11. Chapter 11

I walked up to the door slowly, dreading this conversation. I was so focused on the idea that Randy was invading my personal space that I didn't realize it wasn't him until the man turned around.

I was a bit taken aback, but he smiled at me. "Ms. Taylor?"

I managed to return his smile. "Hello, Officer. What can I do for you?"

He reached a hand out, and I took it to shake. "Officer Reigns, ma'am. You have a few people worried. I was instructed to do a wellness check."

My look of befuddlement was entirely genuine. "I've been at work all day, sir. I'm not sure who would be worried."

"Your friend Kara and Officer Orton have been trying to call your cell phone all day. About halfway through, it began going straight to voicemail."

My heart started pounding, although it wasn't nerves – I was pissed off. I tried to shove it down, as getting angry with a law enforcement official was never a good idea. "I can't answer my personal phone at work," I explained. "I forgot to charge it last night and it died about halfway through the day."

He nodded. "You're not in any trouble, ma'am. Just glad that you're safe. I'll relay the message to Officer Orton. Charge your phone and give him a call, all right?" He smiled kindly at me. "The man won't rest until you do; he'd probably send me out here again."

I managed to smile back, although the expression felt tight. "I'll be sure not to trouble you with it again, Officer. Sorry for the inconvenience."

He waved me off. "No trouble, Ms. Taylor. I know how it is when one of us starts dating someone. We're always a little uptight the first few months."

I managed a small, uneasy laugh. "Good to know."

He flashed me another smile. "Take care. I hope to see you around."

"Thank you," I replied, somehow still smiling. "Likewise."

I turned to open my door, annoyed beyond belief. "Ms. Taylor?" I turned back to Officer Reigns. "You've got yourself a good man there. Try not to be too hard on him for this."

I fought back the urge to snap that it was none of his business, but I simply nodded and pushed my door open. I stepped inside and took several deep breaths after I closed the door behind me. I tried not to feel like Randy was using his position to check up on me. I tried to believe Officer Reigns when he said that all cops were just a little uptight when they started dating someone.

I tried very hard to believe all that, but I was still incredibly angry.

I stomped over to where my charger was and plugged my phone in, watching incredulously as it processed an enormous quantity of text messages and voicemails. I didn't even bother to look through them all, seeing that they were nearly all from Randy – with a few interspersed from Kara.

I made sure I calmed myself as best I could before I dialed Randy's number.

"Cass," he answered on the second ring. "My God, where have you been?"

"I was at work, Randy. Like I am every weekday. You know that I can't have my phone there."

He paused. "I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot."

"I was just so worried after last night. I wasn't thinking straight."

"That much is abundantly clear," I replied dryly.

He sighed. "Babe, I am…there are no words. I've been a wreck all day."

I softened a little bit. He sounded like he'd been through the ringer. "I have, too," I admitted. "Just give me a little time, ok? You really scared me last night."

"I know," he said unhappily. "It was never my intention."

"I know that. We all lose our heads sometimes, I know." The words tumbled out of my mouth without my conscious thought. I just wanted him to stop sounding so miserable. "But you need to keep it together. I won't tolerate that sort of behavior."

"You're absolutely right. You shouldn't tolerate that, and I swear to God above…if you just give me another chance, nothing like that will ever happen again. Ever."

He sounded near tears, and my heart broke just a little. "Randy," I said gently. "It's ok. _We_ are ok. I just need you to understand how serious that was."

"I do. I've been replaying it over and over in my head, cursing myself for being so fucking stupid. You…you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You're so different from anybody else I've ever dated, and I'm just so fucking crazy about you. I don't know that I'd ever forgive myself if you walked away from me."

"You don't have to worry about that, because I'm not going to."

He exhaled shakily, and all I wanted to do was find him and hug him. "Can I come over tonight?" He asked in a small voice.

"Of course you can. What time are you done with your shift?"

"I think I'm going to take a little PL, get out around eight. I've been a basket case today; these guys will probably be relieved to have me out of their hair."

"I doubt that. But if it means I get to see you before midnight, I'll tell you whatever you want to hear."

He actually laughed a bit. "I'll be there as soon as I can, pretty lady. I promise."


	12. Chapter 12

I was a bit nervous before he showed up.

I realized that I'd rolled over and forgiven him a little too easily. I hoped I'd impressed upon him the seriousness of his behavior and just how intolerable it was, but I found myself concerned that I hadn't. When he arrived, I immediately lost that concern.

He looked awful.

He tried to smile when he saw me, but his expression was so full of pain that my heart ached. I simply opened my arms, and this tall, strong man collapsed into me.

"I," he said in a shuddering voice, "am so sorry."

I turned my head and lightly kissed his cheek. "Come on inside and let's talk."

"You're not…are you…don't leave me."

"I won't. Let's just get off my patio and cuddle on the couch."

He squeezed me tightly and then allowed me to lead him inside. Any worries I had about forgiving him too easily vanished – he'd obviously been punishing himself enough for both of us.

He fell onto the couch and pulled me into his arms, lying back and resting my head on his chest.

"Today was Hell," he murmured, kissing my forehead. "I was out of my mind with worry."

I snuggled into his chest. "It's over now."

"Not yet." He gently brought my chin up. "I know there's no excuse, but I want to explain." He paused. "Work's been…it's been really tough for me lately. It never used to bother me, putting all these assholes away. But since I met you, it _has_ been bothering me. I see someone nearly bent in half in a car wreck while the drunk who hit him walks away; I see a man with his pants around his ankles swearing he was just trying to rob the crying, bleeding woman on the ground…and I wonder how I would feel if I ran across you in those situations. I couldn't stand it, Cass. I just can't stand the thought of something happening to you." He took a deep breath. "I love you. It's been eating at me for weeks now, driving me crazy. Last night, I just wanted…needed…you to feel that love, too. I can't stand the idea of losing you without ever getting to live a full life with you."

Before I could even begin to formulate a response, he leaned forward and kissed me fiercely. His hands slid down my sides and gripped my hips tightly to pull me up further, and soon we were moving without thought – we were moving only on raw instinct.

His mouth moved to my neck, his teeth lightly nipping at my skin. I moaned softly, turning my head to allow him better access. He took advantage by bringing his mouth up to my ear, gently sucking on the lobe before saying in a low voice, "Christ, Cass. You're killing me. Killing me."

I took his hands and put them on my breasts, which he began kneading through my shirt with a low groan. I turned back to him and kissed him, gently rocking my hips against his. My logical mind screamed in protest, but my body was entirely too involved to give a shit about what it was saying.

"I want you," he said in between kisses. "Now."

Surprising the hell out of me, he stood up. I was wrapped up in his arms anyway, but he adjusted to get a better grip on me – still kissing me all the while. I had a brief moment to consider that he was one talented man while he walked us back to my bedroom.

He put me down on the bed, pausing only a moment to pull his shirt off before returning to kiss me. His lips trailed down my neck, and I felt his hands tugging at my shirt before it was suddenly up over my head and thrown to the floor.

He buried his face between my breasts, kissing and nuzzling them with a small contented sigh. He began to work at my pants, popping the button on my jeans and sliding them down. I helped him as best I could by lifting my hips, and I could feel him smile against my skin.

He continued down, kissing a trail down my stomach before arriving at the top of my panties. Glancing up at me and giving me a feral grin, he took the waistband in his mouth and yanked them down with his teeth.

I couldn't help it; I laughed. He chuckled himself before pushing his face between my thighs, his tongue working fiercely immediately.

I stopped laughing.

I pressed my hips against his face as the sudden influx of pleasure hit me. A small moan escaped my lips, and I found myself resting my hands on his head – his hair was cut too short to really grip.

He swirled his tongue around my clit, pausing his motion occasionally to suck on me. When he began to flick his tongue rapidly against my now-swollen, aching clit I grabbed his head tightly as my hips rode up.

"Randy," I gasped, sitting up and tossing my head back as the first orgasm a man had given me in two years shot through me.

After several entirely pleasurable moments, I collapsed back onto the bed. I was still trembling a bit, which wasn't helped by the fact that Randy was still gently licking me, sending tremors through my body every now and again.

Mercifully, he pulled away and I watched him wipe his mouth with his forearm.

"You," he growled, moving up my body and planting a kiss on my mouth, "were fucking delicious. I'll give you that any time you want."

I felt his hand working on his belt buckle and heard the release of it, followed by the soft thump of his pants hitting the floor. He lightly toyed the head of his erection through my wet lips, smiling as I shuddered when he hit my clitoris.

He pushed his head inside of me, moaning softly in my ear. "Can I?" He whimpered.

"Condom?" I reminded him gently.

He groaned and pushed a little further. "I'll pull out. I promise."

Before I could tell him no, he thrust forward and was buried completely inside of me. "Oh my God," he groaned in my ear. "Babe…this is everything I imagined and then some." He kissed me again, pushing his tongue into my mouth as he began to move – slowly at first, but rapidly picking up speed.

I pressed against him, my hands stroking down his back – I loved the feel of his muscles moving beneath my fingers, loved the sensation of his mouth on mine, loved the way he filled me completely, throbbing lightly the more he moved.

My headboard was slamming against the wall, the bed whining and creaking as he moved. Another orgasm found me unexpectedly, and I bucked my hips against him while my nails dug into his back. I could see him bite his lip through half-lidded eyes, and he was suddenly completely gone. I opened my eyes to watch him as he pumped his fist over his erection for the last few seconds, spilling spurt after spurt of white liquid all over my stomach and up to my breasts.

"Fuck!" He groaned over and over again, his hips jerking with every spurt that shot out of him. When he'd finished, after several quiet seconds, he bent down and kissed me – taking care not to smear the mess he'd made on me.

"I'll get you a towel," he grinned.


	13. Chapter 13

"Was that how you imagined it?" He asked in a low voice, his thumb trailing over my shoulder while his lips pressed against my forehead.

I managed a sleepy smile. "No," I admitted. "I expected it'd be a lot slower, a lot quieter." I turned to look at him. "I'm glad it wasn't."

The right side of his lips curled up into a half-grin. "We can take it slow next time, baby. I'll romance you and spend hours making you come over and over again before I ever get inside of you – and when I do, I'll last about fifteen seconds after watching you enjoy yourself so often."

I laughed, lacing my fingers with his, resting our hands on his stomach. "Are you ok?" He asked, kissing the top of my head. "Are you…."

"I think I'll be sore tomorrow," I replied. "It'd been a while, after all – and you're not exactly lacking." I reached down and lightly patted the small bulge in my sheet, grinning when it jumped up just a little bit under my hand.

"Be careful," he murmured teasingly. "Pull-out method doesn't bother me for a rough one-off when I don't want to stop and go buy condoms – but I'd really rather not knock you up."

"I'd really prefer that we didn't do that, either," I agreed.

"You should go on the pill. Sex is always so much better without that little latex annoyance."

I hesitated, not sure how to broach this subject. God, I'd been out of the dating game way too long. "Have you been tested recently? For…you know…diseases?"

"Yep. I'm clean." He brought my chin up and kissed me. "All we have to worry about is accidentally making a baby."

"Oh yeah, that's no big deal," I laughed, snuggling back into him and trailing my hand over his chest. He pulled me closer to him.

"Let's go away this weekend," he murmured. "I have some time I can take. You're not working. My uncle has an old hunting cabin he lets me use sometimes. Let's just take off. Spend the weekend pretending the world outside of you and me doesn't exist."

I smiled. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?" He asked, and I could hear the small note of relief in his voice as he lightly stroked back through my hair. "Then we'll leave tomorrow after you're done with work."

We fell quiet for a few minutes, and I started to fall asleep wrapped up tightly with him. "Cass?" He murmured after an undetermined amount of time.

"Mmm?"

"I do love you, baby," he said, kissing me again. "I've been beating myself up, not wanting to say it too soon…but it's how I feel. I love you."

That snapped me awake. I had no idea what to say. I squeezed him tightly. "I'm glad you know that you can say that to me," I finally settled on. "I care about you so much. I love every minute I spend with you."

The room went silent again, but it was nowhere near comfortable this time. "So you don't love me?" He asked flatly.

"Not yet," I said gently. "I feel like I could, and I know that I will. I'm just a bit behind you is all."

After a few minutes of holding my breath, he nodded slowly. "I'm glad that you didn't feel the need to lie to me and tell me you loved me, too. I know you'll tell me when you do, and at least I'll know that you mean it."

Relieved, I stretched my neck up and kissed him. He gave me a small smile. "Get some sleep while you can, pretty lady," his voice rumbled in his chest. "I intend to exhaust you this weekend."


	14. Chapter 14

The next day started out well enough.

Randy waved goodbye to me happily from my own front door that morning, a mug of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face. I tried to process the enormity of what last night had meant on my drive in to work.

I'd slept with a man other than my husband. Something I hadn't done since I was seventeen. The concept was totally foreign to me. Randy's declaration of love after the fact hadn't helped. If I was being honest, it confused things even more.

I knew that I wasn't, but it felt like I was being unfaithful. It still felt like Pete might come home at any minute, walk through that door, and ask me how my day was. I knew it wasn't true, but it didn't make the feeling any less intense.

I shook myself out of it by mid-day with a firm promise to go and finally speak to the grief counselor whose number I'd had in my purse for about a year now. It was time for me to move on, and Randy was the first man I'd felt like I could do that with.

I wasn't going to screw this up.

After I'd made that decision – which was a very important one – I started to look forward even more to our time away. This certainly wasn't hurt by the fact that a huge bouquet of flowers made its way through my door at around two that afternoon, causing the rest of the girls to shoot me looks mingled with curiosity and jealousy.

Blushing, I read the card – '_You make me so happy. Love, Randy_'

I left that afternoon smiling, not knowing what the weekend had in store for me and what it meant for the rest of my life. If I had known, I doubt I would have been smiling. I doubt I would have even left the office, to be honest.

But I couldn't see the future, and so I didn't know. I walked out to the waiting car, walked out into Randy's waiting arms, with a light heart and the hope of finally moving forward with my life.

"Hey beautiful," he murmured into my hair, hugging me tightly. "Did you get my flowers?"

I peeled myself away to smile up at him. "I did. They were perfect; thank you. You made all the other girls jealous, you know," I teased.

He grinned at me. "Good. I want everyone in the world to be jealous of how well I treat you." He leaned down and kissed me intensely until I gently dislodged him. His eyes hardened for a split second before becoming neutral again – it happened so fast that I was sure I'd imagined it.

"Let's go and get started with our adventure." He said with a smile, although his eyes still looked flat. It was the second time I'd seen that expression, and looking back…I should have been worried. But I wasn't.

The drive itself was uneventful, just long. We made our way out of our small city and drove into the backwoods for quite some time. My cell service vanished about halfway there. When I commented to Randy, he simply smiled.

"I told you, just you and me this weekend. I want you all to myself."

I tried to shove down a sudden rush of fear at those words. It was totally irrational for me to be afraid of being alone with my boyfriend.

We made it to the cabin without further incident. We brought our bags in and Randy gave me a quick tour – it was nothing special, but we did have a bathroom. I was pleased by that. Then he immediately set us both to work, handing me a bag with sheets and blankets before going around the back of the house to split logs for a fire.

I made the bed idly, taking a bit of time to watch him from the upstairs window. The muscles of his back moved rhythmically beneath his shirt as he swung the axe, and I had the first thought of how strong he was. He could really hurt someone if he wanted to.

"What a weird thought," I muttered to myself, shaking my head and finally turning to the bed. He'd apparently bought entirely new bedding for the occasion, and I had to smile. He was really trying to make this special for us.

"Cass!" He yelled from downstairs, breaking into my thoughts. "Can you come open the door for me, please?"

I bolted down and opened the door, watching as he walked through with an armful of split logs. "Can I help?" I asked as he walked past me to stack it up on the stone fireplace.

"Naw, baby. Why don't you go unpack?" He asked absently. "I'll start a fire and we can get settled in and cozy for the night."

He made three more trips back and forth, calling for me to open the door each time. I became annoyed at the second trip, having to drop whatever I was doing to come and open up for him. "Why don't you let me help?" I asked, hearing the note of exasperation in my voice.

"I said no, Cassidy," he replied in a low voice as he stacked more wood. "I can handle this. Go unpack."

I rolled my eyes. "Would you stop being so stubborn? It'll take less time if we both do it."

He turned towards me, and the expression on his face stopped me dead. "Stupid or deaf?" He snapped after a minute.

"What?"

"Stupid or deaf?" He repeated patiently. "Which one are you?"

"Neither," I answered, furrowing my brow.

"Then why are we standing here arguing when I told you I could handle it and to go upstairs and unpack our fucking bags?"

I had a crawling, uncomfortable feeling ripple over my skin and I was suddenly fighting back tears. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I just wanted to help."

"I told you how to help," he replied, his voice on the very edge of frustration. "Why do you insist on not listening to me?" We both fell silent for a second and he nodded towards the stairs. "Now go on. Get to work."

Slowly, numbly, I made my way through the small room and climbed the stairs. I went about the motions of unpacking mechanically, even as my hands shook and my mind screamed at me to throw everything back in the bag and get the hell out of there.

I should have listened.


	15. Chapter 15

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind, and a soft kiss fell on my neck.

"Sorry I lost my temper," Randy rumbled in my ear.

"It happens," I replied, attempting to shrug it off. "At least you didn't scream your head off at me."

"I don't do that," he answered, lightly rubbing his hands over my arms. "When I'm real mad, I get quiet. Don't say a word. Those are the times you should worry. If I'm talking, you're ok."

"Intend for that to happen often?" I tried to keep my tone light and failed.

"No. I just know myself. I have a temper, and it can get pretty bad. That's something you should know about me is all." He turned me around to face him. "I want you around for a long time. You'll need to know the good and the bad about me."

I managed to smile. "You're right. Thanks for letting me in on that."

He took two fingers under my chin and brought my face up to his for a kiss. "I'll always tell you what you need to know."

Those words sounded strange to me, but I couldn't understand exactly why. I didn't have much time to think about it.

"Cass," he said in a low voice, "can we kiss and make up? There's a bottle of wine and a nice warm fire waiting for us. Let's go enjoy both."

Without waiting for a response, he took my hand and led me downstairs. He settled me in front of the fire while he poured the wine, eventually dropping beside me and handing me a glass that was nearly overflowing. We both drank in silence for several minutes before he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him.

"This is perfect," he sighed contentedly. I nuzzled into his chest in response; smiling and finally starting to relax…which is why I was surprised by his next words. "You're still upset with me, aren't you," he said flatly.

"No," I replied, surprised. "I'm not upset at all. I guess I was just…surprised by how you reacted. But I'm fine," I added hastily. "Really. I'm just enjoying my wine and enjoying you."

I glanced up to gauge his reaction, unsurprised to see his blue eyes studying me intently. "Good." He nodded, stretching his arms. "I want that fight to be over."

"It is," I reassured him. I wanted to add that he was the one who seemed to be having a tough time letting it go, but I realized that would probably start another fight. I placed my hand on his chest instead and smiled at him. "I just want to enjoy my time with you."

His face melted into a smile. "Goddamn woman, I love you."

Just like that, he snapped back into that charming man from the last two weeks. We spent the night laughing and joking, alternately discussing things that were kind of serious and not serious at all. When the bottle of wine was nearly empty, I realized that I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I would realize later that this was no coincidence.

He led me up to bed, and I was asleep in minutes nestled tightly against his chest.

I wasn't sure what woke me up at first. I could hear rain pattering loudly on the tin roof and the distant rumble of thunder, both of which were oddly soothing. I went to roll over onto my side from my back and was surprised to feel hands on my thighs, holding me down. After several seconds of puzzlement, it registered that I was undressed and Randy was between my thighs beneath the blankets.

I closed my eyes, totally lost in the sensation of his mouth working hungrily against me. "Randy," I tried to say, but it came out as a half-moan. "Baby, what are you doing?"

In response, he plunged two fingers inside of me. I was still sore from the night before, but when he hooked his fingers and stroked insistently against my G-spot, all the discomfort vanished as I had one hell of an orgasm.

I was only vaguely aware of him pushing himself up to his knees. "Cass," he murmured, stroking his cock through my lips. "Do you trust me?" He teased his head around my entrance, his thumb roughly stroking my clit.

"Yes," I breathed, unsurprised when he rammed himself completely inside of me, emitting a low, guttural moan. He gripped my hair in one hand and yanked my head to the side, exposing my neck to his lips. I felt him scrape his teeth against my skin, surprised when my hips pressed against his more insistently and my nipples hardened completely.

This didn't escape his attention, as he bent his head and began gently flicking them with his tongue in turn. When he began to suck, I could feel myself getting even wetter – right up until I felt the sharp sting of his teeth biting into my skin. I gasped as a mixture of pleasure and pain shot through me, arching my back as Randy thrust into me harder. He took my legs and wrapped them tightly around his waist, holding onto me at an angle he liked.

"Cass," he moaned, one hand moving to grip my breast tightly. He slammed into me, and I was certain that he'd pull out at any moment…but he didn't.

Instead, he thrust deep and I felt him throbbing inside of me, his erection pulsating as he spilled into me. He was panting hard, interspersed with soft moans as he continued moving his hips the slightest bit. He was enjoying every last second, while I was suddenly terrified.

"Randy," I whispered, "what…?"

"You said you trusted me," he replied, still breathing hard. "So trust me." With a loud groan, he pulled out of me and vanished for a few minutes, returning with a towel. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently cleaned me up, smiling as he witnessed the mess he'd made inside of me.

He came back to bed, wrapping an arm tightly around my shoulders. "We'll go into town in the morning," he said in a low voice. "Stop at the pharmacy, get you some Plan B. But, Cass…call your doctor on Monday. I really fucking hate condoms."

He pressed his lips tight to my forehead and was asleep within minutes. I would lie awake for a long time, trying to figure out why this all felt so wrong to me.


	16. Chapter 16

"Good morning beautiful," a low voice said in my ear, a warm hand trailing over my abdomen. "How did you sleep?"

I nuzzled back into Randy's body, a small smile on my lips. "Great," I lied. "How about you?"

"Fantastic," he murmured, lightly kissing my shoulder. "I was just going to take a shower. Care to join me?"

I rolled over and grinned at his sleepy face, pressing my lips against his. He slid his hand over my side, gently gripping my hip. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest. I was trying so hard to push away the nagging feeling of…_wrongness_…I had about this whole situation, but I wasn't succeeding at all.

"Can I take that as a yes?"

Resigned, I nodded. He slipped away from me with one last kiss on my forehead, offering me his hand and pulling me out of bed when I gave it to him.

Our shower started out as all showers do – except I was trapped in a small, steamy compartment with a man who was probably twice my size.

"Want me to soap your back?" He teased, pressing against me. I could feel that he was starting to get turned on; a notion only confirmed when his hands slid up and grabbed my breasts. "Cass," he breathed in my ear. "I can't get enough of you."

His hand slid down my abdomen, and I grasped it to stop him. "Only if you use some kind of protection," I said firmly.

He stopped dead. "Where did that come from?" He turned me around, his face puzzled.

I swallowed hard. "I trust you, Randy, I really do. But I also know biology. I'm really not comfortable with what you did last night."

He had the good sense to look embarrassed. "You're totally right, and I'm sorry. It's just…I've been with you, inside of you, with nothing between us. I want that closeness every time."

I softened a bit. "I understand. But we need to be smart about this. We can't let our bodies run roughshod over our good sense."

He bent and kissed me. "Can we let our bodies run roughshod over our good sense just one more time?" He asked, pressing against me insistently. "We're going to get you Plan B today anyway…."

Without waiting for my answer, he picked me up and rested me against the wall, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Randy –" He cut me off with a kiss.

"I'm not," he said in a low voice, "getting out of this shower." He worked a hand between us, gently stroking me. "I know you want me, Cassidy. I know you want me just as badly as I want you. So stop fighting it."

"Just pull out at least, ok?" I murmured around his kisses. "I'll feel better about it."

Finally given the green light, he pushed up into me. His lips found my ear and he began a running commentary as he thrust in and out of me –

"You feel so good. I've never been with another woman who could make me feel this way. I fit perfectly inside of you; can't you feel that?" He punctuated that statement with a particularly deep thrust, both of us moaning softly. "You're perfect, Cass, absolutely perfect. You're what I've been waiting my whole life for. And you want to know a secret, baby? I know that I'm what you've been waiting for; I know that I am exactly what you need. I just need you to figure that out, too."

The end of this was lost on me at the time – I was too focused on his fingers, too focused on the way he felt buried inside of me, too focused on that low voice murmuring words close to my ear – words that were unintelligible at the time, but that burrowed their way into my subconscious mind. They would later resonate with horrifying clarity, but right now it was meaningless, sexy sound.

I cried out, pressing against him harder and trying to toss my head back. "That's it," he said softly, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me away from the wall. "That's it, baby." He held me tightly, thrusting up into me. I had a few minutes to be amazed by his strength, watching his muscles contract and ripple.

"Cass," he groaned, crushing his lips against mine. I felt him fill me again, his body tensing tightly before relaxing completely. He gently put my feet on the bottom of the tub.

I wasn't sure how to broach this subject – he'd once again completely ignored my wishes. I was saved this time when he looked a bit abashed. "Sorry, love," he panted. "That one snuck up on me."

I had the sense he was lying, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. We finished our shower in silence, my sense of uneasiness growing stronger by the minute.


	17. Chapter 17

We walked into the small pharmacy hand-in-hand, a smile still on Randy's lips. He'd been animated nearly all morning, talking merrily as we drove the half-hour into town and over the breakfast he'd insisted on buying, even though I found I didn't have much of an appetite.

When he questioned me about it, I shrugged and replied that I was just anxious to get to the pharmacy. The smile had dropped off his face, and I apologized – taking several hulking bites of my breakfast to try to smooth things over. It seemed to work.

"Officer Orton!" The man behind the counter exclaimed. He was an older gentleman, steely gray hair and deep brown eyes. "Kind of late in the season for you."

"Good to see you again, Mr. Phelps," Randy replied easily. "I just wanted to show my friend Cassidy the place," he added, gesturing towards me. "Romantic getaway."

Mr. Phelps smiled at me, and I tried to smile back. I was feeling terrible about asking this man for emergency contraceptive. Thankfully, Randy took that bullet for me.

"In fact," he said, lowering his voice as he stepped forward, "we were a bit more…romantic…than we expected. We were hoping to get some Plan B."

"Of course," the pharmacist replied without batting an eyelash. I was still blushing wildly. He filled it with no fuss and gave me the instructions on how to take it. Randy paid the money without batting an eyelash, and I found myself grateful – it had been more expensive than I realized.

As we were walking out, I stopped expectantly in the 'family planning' aisle, glancing at Randy. His face hardened and he took my hand roughly, dragging me away.

"I thought…since I can't call until Monday, and it'll take two weeks for the pill anyway…."

"I told you I hated those," he snapped in a low tone, shoving the door open and walking me through briskly. "Why don't you ever listen to me?"

I'd had enough. "I _did_ listen to you," I sniped right back. "You're the one who's not listening to _me_. I'm not comfortable with this, Randy. So you're not going to get any from me unless you wear a condom."

He glared angrily at me, his face contorting into an ugly grimace. "Get in the car," he said in a low voice.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I stopped on the sidewalk. "No. I'm not going anywhere with you when you're being unreasonable."

He took a step towards me, his fists clenched tightly by his side. "Cassidy, I refuse to argue with you in public. This is a small town and tongues will be wagging. We're going to continue this conversation privately."

I hated that I could see the sense in his words, but I did – and so I walked over to the passenger side door, surprised when Randy beat me there and opened it for me. He waited until I settled to lightly shut the door, smiling and waving at a few of the townspeople that passed by. Once he got in the car, the smile dropped off his face immediately.

"I just wanted to have a good day with you," he mused as he started the car and slowly backed out of the parking space. "It started out perfect. Then you had to go and pick a fight."

"It's a pretty important fight to pick. I don't want a baby."

He shook his head, obviously exasperated. "I got you fucking Plan B, do you really think _I_ want a kid?"

"Then why are you being such a stubborn asshole about this?"

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Don't," he growled, "call me an asshole. There is no need to resort to name-calling, do you hear me?"

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, trying to pull my temper back. "You're right, and I'm sorry for saying that. I am just very frustrated right now."

He fell completely silent, and I hazarded a glance at him. His cheeks and ears were dark red. I'd managed to piss him off severely.

The rest of our drive was quiet. When Randy pulled into the driveway to the cabin, spitting gravel everywhere as he took the turn too fast, I realized that this wasn't going to get any better.

I went inside and went upstairs, pulling out my bag and beginning to pack. He watched me from the doorway for several minutes before speaking up.

"What are you doing?"

"I think we should go home," I replied, not looking up at him as I continued to put things in my bag. "This was obviously not the right time in our relationship for this."

I hadn't heard him cross the room, but his hand was suddenly gripping my wrist. "We're not leaving," he said tiredly. "It was one fight."

"One fight that pinpoints a pretty serious incompatibility. I don't want to be here anymore, Randy."

"Well isn't that just too bad, pretty lady," he snapped. "You're stuck here. No car, no phone, just you and me and all these imaginary issues you keep coming up with in your head. Tell the truth, Cass – tell the fucking truth – you're doing this because you'd rather sit around and mourn your dead husband forever than to actually live your own life."

I pulled back as if he'd slapped me. "Don't you dare," I said in a low voice, "talk about Peter. Not now. You don't bring him up in our fights."

I couldn't take it right then, and I moved to go around him and walk down the stairs. It was my intention to go out into the woods and cool off for an hour or so, coming back so we could discuss this rationally. Randy was having none of it.

He grabbed me around the waist and yanked me back, driving me face-first onto the bed. "Don't walk away from me, you stupid bitch," he snarled. "We're not done here."

"Get off of me," I cried, my voice muffled from my face being shoved into the blankets. I tried to squirm away from him, but he pinned me down harder.

"The more you fight me, the worse it's going to be. So just stop. Take a breath, before you hurt yourself."

I forced myself to relax and stop struggling. "Please let me up."

"As long as we come to the understanding right now that you're not going _anywhere_. No more talk of that, do you hear me?"

"Yes," I replied unhappily. I was rewarded after several seconds when he released my hands and allowed me to sit up.

"Now," he said, kneeling in front of me and staring me directly in the face, "you and I are going to get a few things straight."


	18. Chapter 18

I couldn't help but be frightened by those words. I tried to swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, and slowly nodded. "All right," I replied as calmly as I could, lacing my fingers together and placing my hands between my knees.

Randy reached and immediately grabbed my hands by the wrists, holding them tightly. "I don't know why you're insisting on fighting with me this weekend," he started slowly, "but it stops now. We're here to spend some quality time with one another, and you keep fucking it up."

I opened my mouth to protest. "Shut up," he snapped. "I didn't tell you that you could talk."

I tried to keep the incredulity from my face and failed miserably. This wasn't the sweet, thoughtful man of the past few weeks – he was someone entirely different. He gave me a wry smile. "Are you starting to see now that you've pissed me off beyond being nice, dear? Good. Maybe you'll actually start fucking listening to me."

I looked away from him briefly, completely unsure how to act or feel. "No," he said with false patience. "You look at me." I brought my head back up and met his eyes steadily. "Let me tell you how this is going to be. You are going to stop picking these stupid fucking fights with me. You're going to settle in and appreciate everything I've done for you this weekend. You're going to apologize and ask me to forgive you. Then, once we've enjoyed our whole weekend and I've brought you safely back home, you are going to straighten your shit out so you _never_ pull this kind of stunt again. You're crazy, Cass," he said bluntly. "You're a fucking lunatic, and while I love you beyond reason I won't put up with it for long."

I sat in stunned silence for several moments, trying to gauge if he was serious or not. I expected him to burst out laughing any moment, apologizing for using such a stupid way to try to break the tension between us – because this obviously was some kind of a horrible joke. Right? Right?

"You can speak now," he said instead. "I'm amazed you actually listened when I told you to shut up. Maybe there's hope for you yet."

I scoffed. "You are un-fucking-believable," I started, gearing up for a tirade about everything that was wrong with what he'd just said.

Instead, I was again stunned into silence when he casually reached out and slapped me hard across the face. My head was thrown to the side and I could feel my cheek stinging immediately, tears welling in my eyes from the pain.

"Now I told you how this was going to be," he said, gripping me by the hair and turning my head back to face him. "Care to try again?"

I stared at him, aghast. I had never in my life been struck by a man before, and never dreamed that it would happen. The fact that he acted so calm about it – as if it was commonplace, as if it was ok – threw me completely for a loop.

And here he was, still staring at me expectantly; still waiting for me to acquiesce to this sickness.

"I can stay like this all day, Cassidy – although I doubt it will be a very fun experience for you if I do. So stop being stubborn and tell me what I want to hear."

After several moments of us simply staring at each other, his face fell and he raised his hand again. I closed my eyes, flinching back. "I'm sorry," I spat out hastily. "I'm sorry for picking fights with you this weekend. Please forgive me."

He was quiet for several moments and I finally worked up enough courage to open my eyes. He'd dropped his hand, I was relieved to note. "Are we going to enjoy the rest of this weekend?" He asked calmly. I nodded. He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on my forehead.

"All you have to do is listen to me, Cass. We'll get along just fine if you do that." He bent and lightly kissed the cheek he'd slapped moments ago. "Please don't make me do that again. It's not something I enjoy."

His lips moved down to my neck, and I fought the urge to vomit. How could he think for a minute that I'd want him now? My body stiffened and I tried to pull away, but he grabbed my shoulders roughly. "No," he admonished sternly. "Do you really need me to remind you on how to behave?"

"No," I answered quietly, forcing myself to relax as he went back to kissing my neck.

I was completely and utterly disgusted when he made love to me, but trying desperately to hide that fact – lest I get slapped again, or worse this time. I forced myself into a mental bubble, attempting to experience everything with complete detachment. I went numb; I shut my brain down and became a piece of meat.

It worked at the time. I realized there would be hell to pay when the enormity of this experience finally dawned on me, but right then – I was empty and blank, and utterly grateful for that fact.

Randy came inside of me again, gasping and grunting about how much he loved me. I didn't protest. I was much smarter than that.

In fact, I didn't raise a single protest the rest of the weekend. I let him do whatever it was that he wanted with a smile on my face. I was perfectly docile, even as I mentally counted the minutes until we left.

He seemed pleased by this, gradually returning to that sweet, loving man I'd known before this weekend – but now I knew better. Now I knew that _this_ man was a lie, and that a monster lurked just beneath that handsome face.

I waited until we were safely back at my house on Sunday night. Randy took my bag and attempted to come in with me, but I stopped him. I reached out and took my bag first, sensing that he was going to fly off the handle.

"I don't think I want to see you anymore," I said, slowly backing away from him as I said those words. "I just don't think it would work out between us."

His face dropped briefly, only to be replaced immediately by fierce anger. "Cassidy, you're not making any sense."

"Yes, I am," I replied clearly. "I've made that decision. I'm sorry, Randy." My back hit my door handle, and I turned briefly to unlock the door with shaking hands. I expected him to come up behind me, to chase me in the house – but he didn't. When I turned back around, he was standing in my driveway with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

"You have no idea what you just lost," he said simply, turning and walking away from me. "And you're not now, but you _will_ be sorry someday."

I was trembling with relief as I pushed my door open and stepped inside, locking up tightly behind me. It had been so much easier than I had expected…and that's how I should have known that my troubles were only just beginning.


	19. Chapter 19

I turned my phone back on after a terrible night of sleep and was greeted with a single text message.

'Can we please talk about this?'

My stomach churned nervously, and I knew there was no way I'd make it through a full work day. I reluctantly called in sick and pulled the covers back up to my chin. I lay there for a long time, slowly trying to process everything that had happened.

After I'd been sure that Randy had left, I stepped into the shower. I didn't step out again until the water had started to turn cold. Physically I'd felt a little better, but mentally I was a wreck. I'd never in my life felt so violated – and that feeling of complete powerlessness pounded relentlessly through everything I did.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time. Eventually, I decided that he wasn't going to make me a victim. I was going to overcome this and be stronger for it. I'd already made the right decision to end things, and that was a huge step in recovering some of my strength.

As I lie there remembering these important moments, my phone started ringing. It was quarter to seven in the morning, and I figured work was calling me back. The caller ID stated that it was a private caller, and so I elected not to answer the phone. Whoever it was – and I had a feeling I knew who that would be – could wait.

Sure enough, when I listened to the message left, I was greeted by Randy's low, slow voice.

"Hey Cass, it's me. I was hoping we could get together at some point today – maybe on your lunch break? I understand that you probably don't want to see me right now, but I've been up all night. I'm…" he paused to sigh. "I'm a total wreck. I did a lot of thinking and I realized what an asshole I was this weekend. I just want to apologize. I don't expect you to want to continue our relationship, and that hurts like Hell…but I understand. I just really want to say that I'm sorry. In person. Can you please give me a call? Thanks."

I hung up, shaking my head. As far as I was concerned, _that_ was his apology. We were square, but I still never wanted to see him again.

I thought that was entirely reasonable, given the circumstances. But it still didn't stop that crawling, gnawing feeling of worry that swept over me. He wasn't letting this go, in spite of the finality of our last moments yesterday. I wondered for the first time how long he would persist.

Shaking my head, I decided to postpone any further thinking until I actually got some decent sleep. Stumbling to my bathroom, yawning, I looked over the cache of pills I had stashed. I finally found the dusty bottle of sleeping pills towards the back of the cabinet and tossed one back. Before long, I was back in bed and drifting away – the sounds of my constantly ringing phone lulling me into sleep.

I awoke several hours later, confused and groggy. It took me a minute to realize that someone was pounding loudly on my door.

"Police," a voice yelled, reverberating through my aching head. "Open the door."

I stumbled to the door as quickly as I could, opening it to find a tall, blonde-haired police officer with his hand on his gun. "Miss Taylor?" He barked.

"Yes…?" I replied, slowly starting to wake up.

"Officer Ambrose. Wellness check," he snapped. "Are you here alone?"

"Yes. I was sleeping."

His eyes ran over me quickly, taking in the shorts and tank top I was wearing. "Do you mind if I come in and look around?" He asked, stepping through the doorway and looking around anyway, his hand still on his gun. "Stay here," he instructed as he went through my house.

He returned after several moments, apparently satisfied. "Care to explain why no one can get a hold of you today, ma'am?"

His angry tone took me by surprise, and I took a moment to formulate my answer. "I'm a bit under the weather. I called in sick to work and I've been sleeping all day."

"Mmm-hmm," he replied, obviously annoyed. I raised an eyebrow at his attitude, and he raised one right back at me. "I could have been out doing actual police work," he snapped. "Instead, I'm sent off to chase my partner's wayward girlfriend because she can't be bothered to tell him she's sick. For fuck's sake."

I shook my head. "I'm not Randy's girlfriend, and it's none of his goddamn business what I'm doing. You can tell him that."

"Tell him yourself, sweetheart," he sneered. "I'm not your messenger boy."

The radio on his shoulder crackled at that moment, and I could hear Randy's voice coming over the speaker. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to ignore their conversation about me. Once Ambrose had assured Randy that I was fine and the conversation was over, he turned back to me.

"Call your fucking boyfriend," he snapped, stalking out of my house. "Glad you're ok, ma'am," he added snidely. I was certain it was a line they had to say.

"Dick," I muttered, slamming the door behind him. I waited for a moment, trying to calm myself down – but it didn't work. I found myself heading back to my bedroom and searching out my phone.

Randy picked up on the first ring. "Cass?"

"Stop sending your fucking buddies to my house," I snapped. "I'm fine, Randy, I just don't want to talk to you. Get that through your fucking head. We're done, and I never want to see you again."

I cut off his protesting reply by hanging up on him.


	20. Chapter 20

The flowers arrived within the hour, a huge bouquet bursting with color. 'Please,' was the entirety of the card attached.

I ignored it.

Kara called the following hour. "Randy is distraught," she said after our initial greetings. "He said you guys had some kind of a fight and you ended things last night."

"Yeah," I answered. "That's the gist of it."

She was quiet for a minute. "He's a really great guy, Cass. And he's nuts about you. Couldn't you just talk to him? Maybe?"

"I don't think so," I replied cautiously. I didn't want to offend her. "He said some things in our fight that were complete deal-breakers."

"What did he say?"

I found suddenly that I was completely unwilling to discuss what had happened. Not with someone who thought that he was such a great guy.

"He brought up Peter," I finally elected to say. "That was a low blow."

She sighed. "Oh boy."

"Yeah."

"He was wrong to drag him into a fight," Kara agreed immediately. "But we all do stupid things. He's a complete basket case right now, and he feels awful. I'm not…he didn't want me to tell you, but he was over here talking to me about it and he started crying. He feels terrible."

"He should," I replied, trying to keep the vicious pleasure from ripping through my heart and failing. "He was completely in the wrong."

"He knows that. He just wants to apologize."

"Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on both of your sides," she replied calmly. "You two were really happy together. This was just a hiccup."

"He slapped me!" I finally exploded. "He slapped me across the face because I wasn't doing what he wanted."

She paused. "I can't believe that."

"It's what happened. You can choose what you want to believe. I believe that I'm not going to be seeing him again."

Agitated beyond belief, I hung up on her. My phone began ringing again immediately, but I just couldn't answer the call. I couldn't face what I'd just said, and I couldn't hear the disbelief in her voice. My best friend didn't believe me. What the fuck was I going to do now?

I suddenly burst into tears. This whole thing was such a mess. I wished that I'd never gotten involved with him in the first place.

Kara called again after several minutes, and I reluctantly picked up.

"Hey," Randy's voice said uncertainly.

"I don't want to speak with you," I replied flatly.

"Please don't hang up. Kara said you were really upset. I just want to try to apologize."

"If you really want to apologize, tell my best friend the truth about what happened."

He hesitated. "I did. I told her that I was way out of line and that I hurt you. I've felt like shit all day."

"Good."

We were both silent for a long minute. "I deserve that," he finally said quietly.

"Yes you do."

"Cass, please. It feels like you're ripping my heart out of my chest. Can I please apologize?"

"You have. You don't need to see me for that."

"You're right. I _want_ to see you. I want to look you in the eye and tell you how dead wrong I was and promise that it will never happen again. I want you to know that I love you desperately and that what you saw this weekend wasn't me. I've loved you for a long time, and finally being close to you…finally being with you…it made me lose my head."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, puzzled. "We only met a few weeks ago."

He was quiet for several moments before speaking. "Meet up with me tonight, and I'll tell you everything."

I was sorely tempted to know what the fuck he was talking about, but my better judgment took hold. "I don't need to know, Randy. All I need to know – and all _you_ need to know – is that we're finished. Please stop calling me."

"Cass, don't –"

I cut him off with the press of a button.


	21. Chapter 21

My life actually returned to what passed for normal for the next few weeks. Randy tried calling at least once a day at first, but by the second week his calls had stopped. Kara, similarly, tried to call and I answered a few times. She apologized, but things between us were still tense. I decided to back off for a bit and just take a breather from the whole situation.

It seemed to do me a world of good. I was promoted the third week after my split from Randy, promoted into a position that I hadn't even applied for because I thought there was no chance I'd get it. My boss offered to take us all out that Friday to celebrate.

I never knew it, but agreeing to that outing happily would end up dumping me right back into the craziness I'd worked so hard to escape.

I arrived late to the venue that Friday night, having gotten a bit lost in the downtown area of our city and then needing to park a few blocks away. It was a nice place; an outdoor beer garden with several long, communal tables surrounded by an oasis of lush green plants.

I searched out my companions, spotting them quickly and making my way over. I slid into an empty seat at the end of the table, making my apologies for being late. I was handed a menu and took it gratefully, studying it quickly and deciding which deliciousness I was going to devour.

As I closed the menu and looked up, I was stunned to see Randy's surprised face as he walked towards our table holding two beers. I looked down, my cheeks starting to burn, as he took a seat at the other end of our table, opposite a pretty blonde woman.

I did my best to ignore the obvious awkwardness of this situation and forged ahead, a smile on my face as I chatted and laughed with my co-workers even while I prayed for my food to arrive quickly so I could get the hell out of there. I could feel Randy's eyes burning a hole into the side of my head, and I could hear his date chastise him for it gently – she was a better woman than I would have been in that situation.

"So," my boss Billy said once we were all plied with beverages, "we all know why we're here. Congratulations, Cass. We're lucky to have you." He raised his glass with a grin in my direction as my co-workers all chimed in with their congratulations.

"Thanks, guys," I said after the chatter had died down. "I'm lucky to be a part of such a great team. You're all fantastic, and I appreciate every single one of you."

We all settled down after that and enjoyed our meals. My co-workers gradually drifted away until Billy and I were the only ones left. We chatted idly, and I tried to ignore that Randy was once again staring at the two of us. It didn't escape Bill's notice, either.

"Know that guy?" He asked in a low voice.

I gave him a tight smile. "Ex-boyfriend."

He raised his eyebrows a bit and laughed. "Awkward."

"No kidding."

"We could have moved."

I shrugged. "I had just as much a right to this table as he did. I'm not going to let him see me sweat."

He nodded. "Good on you. Still…I'd like to walk you to your car tonight."

I could feel relief pulsing through me. "I would really appreciate that," I admitted. "We didn't exactly leave things on the best of terms. I'd just rather avoid speaking to him if at all possible."

"Just let me finish my beer, and we'll get you out of here."

We sat for another ten minutes or so before we left. I hugged him as we made it to my car door. "Do you want a ride back to your car?"

"Nah. The walk will do me good. Thanks Cass. And congratulations again. I'm really glad you accepted the position."

"Me too," I admitted. "Thanks for having faith in me."

He grinned. "Always. Drive safe, now."

I watched from my car as he walked back down the block, feeling the need to make sure he was all right for a reason I couldn't identify. When he was safely in his car, I buckled up and started my car. I was just about to throw it into drive when my phone dinged.

'There you go again, ruining my feeble attempts at moving on. Congratulations on the promotion, Cass. Proud of you.'

I shook off the crawling feeling I had and began to make my way back home without answering. I'd nearly made it to my driveway when the inside of my car was suddenly awash in red and blue lights.


	22. Chapter 22

I watched as the blonde-haired officer who had been such an ass – Ambrose, my brain reminded me – swaggered up to my car.

"Evening, ma'am," he greeted me genially, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Miss Taylor! What a surprise." His dry tone of voice told me that this wasn't a surprise at all.

"Officer Ambrose," I replied, my smile tight.

"Where are you coming from, Miss Taylor? And where are you headed?" I gave him the name of the bar and told him I was on my way home. He then asked that dreaded question: "Any idea why I pulled you over?"

I shook my head. "No sir."

"You were weaving just a little bit on the road back there. Did you have anything to drink tonight?"

"Only a diet coke."

"Drop the attitude."

I snapped my mouth shut and nodded. "Sorry sir."

He grinned. "Officer Orton tells me that you two aren't seeing each other any longer. In fact, it's all I've heard about these last few weeks. Is that true?"

"That's correct sir, yes."

He nodded. "That's too bad. If you _were_ dating him, I'd be showing you a bit of professional courtesy…which would mean that I'd let you go right now instead of asking you to step on out and do a sobriety test for me."

"I don't have any problem doing that," I replied evenly, reaching for the door handle. Ambrose stopped me, a small smile on his face.

"You get out of the car when I tell you to do so, Miss Taylor, and not a moment before. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

He squatted beside the car and leaned on my door. "Officer Orton…Randy…he's a decent enough guy. Probably one of the most decent among us, in fact," he chuckled. "What I'm having a tough time figuring out, Miss Taylor…what I can't really wrap my head around is if you think you're too good to date a police officer or if you're a fucking lunatic."

I turned my head towards him, astounded at the grin on his face. "I'm sorry?"

He shrugged. "Randy's a good guy, and the way he's been whining he's obviously nuts about you…although I'm not sure why. If it's just that you're a fucking lunatic, well…you and I, we won't have any issues. But if you think for one second that you're too good to date a cop, sweetheart…I take offense to that. I take a whole hell of a lot of offense to that."

I shook my head. "Randy being a cop has nothing to do with why we broke up."

"So you're batshit crazy," he said flatly, shrugging. "Fantastic." I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off, standing up as he spoke. "Hand me your license and registration, Miss Taylor, and we can get started on that field test."

I scrambled through my purse and my glove box while he tapped impatiently on my window, flashing me the most insincere smile I'd ever seen when I finally handed him everything he asked for. "Sit tight, let me just run you through our system."

I sat in my seat, stewing. I hated this fucking guy. That wasn't helped by the fact that he was taking fucking forever with my documentation. I watched the cars go by with a growing sense of anger, which I attempted to stuff down. I thought Ambrose might enjoy it if I lost my temper with him, and so I made a concerted effort to not do it.

I was surprised when a truck pulled up in front of me, and then I mentally groaned when I recognized the vehicle. Randy stepped out and walked back towards the police cruiser, sparing a quick glance at me. He spoke to Ambrose for several minutes, and then the two of them walked back to my car together.

"Here you go, Miss Taylor," Ambrose said, dropping the tone as he handed me back my license and registration. "Officer Orton vouched for you. No sobriety test necessary, but please keep your eyes on the road. Have a good night. And, ma'am…drive safe." He tipped his hat and walked back to his car. I heard Randy thank him quietly, shaking his hand.

I was dreading those moments as Ambrose turned his lights off and pulled away, leaving me alone on the side of the road with Randy.

He approached my car cautiously, obviously uneasy. "Hey," he greeted me, bending down to peer into the car.

"Thanks," I replied, "for doing that."

"No problem. I know you weren't drinking."

I nodded. "I'm going to go home now. Thanks again."

He sighed, reaching in to stop my hand from turning the key and starting my car. "Cass, can we please talk? Please?"

I shook my head. "I don't have anything to say to you."

"Then can you please just listen? I just did you one hell of a solid, not that I was expecting anything in return, but I was hoping it would at least make you see that I'm not some kind of monster."

I hung my head. "What do you have to say?" I finally relented.

He paused. "Do we have to do this on the side of the road?"

"I'm not taking you to my house, and I'm not going to yours."

"OK. I don't blame you for that. Let's go to the diner. Neutral, public ground."

I realized I was going to regret this, but I held onto a little bit of hope that if he could just say whatever it was that he was so desperate to say, he might be done with the whole thing.

"All right," I agreed quietly.


	23. Chapter 23

We settled into the booth furthest from the door and away from the waitressing station. Randy ordered us each a coffee in spite of my insistence that I didn't want anything, and after they'd been brought over to us he began speaking.

"It's been really tough these last couple of weeks. It's been driving me crazy, not being able to talk to you."

I stirred my coffee, avoiding his eyes. I watched him grip his mug tightly between his two hands, his thumbs running up and down the front in agitation.

"Do you have…have you missed me at all?"

I removed my spoon and finally looked up. "After the way we left things? No. Not one bit," I replied honestly.

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. "I deserve that." He sighed. "Did you at least feel something for me when we were dating?"

I hesitated, unsure as to why he would ask. "Of course I did. I liked you quite a bit."

"Then I fucked it up."

"Then you fucked it up," I confirmed.

He sat back, his shoulders slumped. "All that time, all those years, and I fuck it up within two weeks. I'm a real fucking champ."

It was the second time he'd mentioned our acquaintance in terms of years. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He glanced up and studied me for a minute. "You really don't remember me, do you?" I shook my head, and he sighed. "What the hell, might as well. You're not going to like hearing this," he warned.

"Just tell me."

He looked at me with obvious reluctance. "I was there the night Pete died," he finally said.

My heart stopped for a minute. "What? How?"

He hung his head. "My partner and I were the first ones on the scene. I tried to revive Peter while my partner – Officer Lundy – helped the fire department get you out of the car." My eyes filled with tears and I shook my head in disbelief. He stared at me intently, his expression guarded, as if I might scream and fly into hysterics at any moment. Instead, I took a shaky breath.

"OK," I replied as calmly as I could. "You were there when Peter died. I don't remember us exactly exchanging Christmas cards after that."

He licked his lips. "No. But…here's the part I know you'll hate, Cass, and I am sorry…I was just a dumb kid. I was a dumb kid who thought you were beautiful, and I hated what your drunk husband put you through that night. So I checked in on you from time to time. I sent you flowers in the hospital. I'd visit when you were sleeping, just to make sure that you were all right...just so you weren't alone, hooked up to all those machines. I watched you go through PT. I watched you at Pete's funeral – you were just so composed. When you ran that marathon six months after, something you never thought you'd be able to do again after your surgeries, I was right there cheering you on." He swallowed hard. "Through all of that, you became so much more than just a pretty face to me."

I felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. He reached across the table for my hands. "I'm sorry," he said, gripping them tightly. "I know how much this hurts."

I shook my head. "Pete died in upstate New York," I finally said, fighting back tears. "We are in Ridgeville, South Carolina. How were you possibly there, and why are you here now?"

He sucked his teeth with his tongue, and I realized that I wasn't going to like what he had to say next at all. "I went to the academy in New York – followed a girl up there. It didn't work out," he finally said. "I saw the for-sale sign go up on your house. I was really happy for you, really happy that you were going to get a fresh start." He paused. "I'm from the south originally, in case you couldn't tell. I'd been waiting to come back here since my break-up. When you were leaving New York, when I knew that you were ok, I felt like I could finally do that.

"It was complete coincidence when I ended up here. A good family friend became the Chief of Police and offered me a job. I didn't know you were here until I saw you at Mike and Kara's house. When I realized it was you, I knew I'd ended up in the right place. Cass…all this happened to finally bring you and I together."

I took a shaky breath, looking away from him. I was locked in a loop of painful memories, amazed to hear that those six months following Peter's death had been observed so closely by someone who thought I was strong and brave. I hadn't felt either of those things at the time. I scoured my memory, trying to remember seeing Randy there in the haze of pain and confusion, and only remembering a skinny kid without tattoos and dark brown hair. But his eyes…. I looked up to compare my memory with the physical person in front of me.

"You _were_ there," it finally dawned on me, and he nodded with obvious relief. "You…you watched Peter die."

He shook his head sadly. "He was already dead. I tried to save him; I tried to get his heart started again. There was nothing I could do, Cass."

We were interrupted by the waitress asking if we needed refills. I took those few seconds to try and wade through the jumbled mess of thoughts in my head. Randy watched me closely, his trepidation written all over his face.

I opened my mouth and closed it several times. "I don't know what to say," I finally admitted. "I have no idea how I feel about this."

He nodded. "It's a lot to take in, I know." He reached for my hands again, and I pulled back.

"You need to give me some time," I said, shaking my head. "You need to give me a chance to work through this."

"I'll give you anything you need. I've always had your best interests at heart, and I always will."

I met his eyes and found that he had a look of complete sincerity on his face. "This doesn't change anything that happened between you and I," I said clearly. "You were still way out of line."

"I know. I was hoping when you knew all this, you could understand why I acted like a lunatic. I've been waiting so long for you, and having you there with me…being so close…I lost my head a bit. It would never happen again if you'd just let me have a chance."

"I…" my head was spinning uncomfortably, my thoughts swirling in a sea of agony and confusion. "I need some air," I said lamely, reaching into my purse and throwing a five on the table. Randy stood to follow me, and I held my hand out to stop him. "No…just…don't."

He slid back into the booth, obviously unhappy. "I'll wait right here." I stood and walked away quickly. "Cass," he called as I reached the door. I turned back. "I'm sorry."

I nodded before I pushed the door open and stepped out into a parking lot blurred by the tears in my eyes.


	24. Chapter 24

I sat for a long time on the hood of my car, trying to ignore the cold and trying to ignore the ache that held onto my chest with a fierce grip.

I knew that I'd never really dealt with Pete's death. Any time it was mentioned, I choked up, couldn't breathe – my world just stopped. I wanted to forget that night and the following weeks; I wanted my memory to be wiped completely clear…but it never would be. I'd finally grown to realize that, although I'd avoided dealing with the implications of having those memories for the rest of my life.

And now, here was this man telling me that he'd fallen in love with me during that awful time. He'd fallen in love with me when I didn't even know his name. He'd watched me from the background for months, never even giving me a hint of his existence.

It was, quite frankly, disturbing as fuck.

"Hey," Randy's voice broke into my thoughts. "Can I sit with you?"

I glanced up to see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets of his jacket. I nodded wordlessly, wrapping my arms tight around my chest to try and keep some of my rapidly-escaping body heat close to me.

He sat quietly and, after a few minutes, peeled his jacket off and draped it around my shoulders. "I'm ok," I protested, trying to shrug out of it.

"You're shivering," he replied, pulling the jacket tight around me. "It's the least I can do."

We were both silent for a long time, and I became grateful for his jacket. I could see the skin on his arms break out in goosebumps, but he didn't complain about the cold. We both sat, staring straight ahead at the empty, well-lit diner.

"Are you all right?" He finally asked.

I considered the question for a minute. "I don't know," I admitted. "It's a lot to take in."

"Are you upset with me?"

"A little bit. I wish you'd told me earlier. I feel like you lured me into a relationship under false pretenses."

"I didn't know how you would take it," he replied uncomfortably.

I gave a bitter laugh. "You stalked me after watching my husband die on the side of the road. How do you think I should take it?"

He had the good sense to look embarrassed. "Not well. I understand why you're upset, but it doesn't mean that I don't wish you felt differently." He sighed. "I thought I'd never see you again, and then suddenly – here you are. Can you understand why it felt like some kind of divine intervention? Can you at least try to understand that I had to do my best to make it work out?"

"I can," I agreed. "I can understand all of it. It doesn't mean that I agree with what you did or that I shouldn't be upset about it."

He reached over and covered my hand with his. "Look, I agree with you. I acted like a creep. I don't have any excuse for it, except to tell you that I managed to grow up along the way. I was a stupid kid, like we all are from time to time…but I can't regret it much, because it brought me here, to you." He squeezed my hand lightly.

I shook my head. "This is all just way too much right now."

"Let me take you home then."

"No. I can drive. I'll be fine."

He licked his lips. "If something were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself. Please just let me drive you home. You're way too upset to be operating a vehicle right now." He held my hand up, and I could see that it was shaking – badly. "Even though you feel OK, you're not."

Confronted with indisputable evidence that I needed to get out of there – badly – and not wanting to wait around for a taxi in our small city in the middle of the night, I reluctantly agreed. Randy led me to his truck, an arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders.

Our drive was silent; the only sound reverberating through the cab was the humming of the motor as he sped me home. He glanced over at me every few minutes, but I continued to ignore him. I just wanted this nightmare of a night to be over.

He parked the truck and surprised me by turning it off. "I'm going to come in with you," he said slowly, obviously trying to gauge how I would take this. "I'm going to stay until I know that you're all right. I don't want to leave you alone right now."

I ran my hand back through my hair. Obviously, the thought of spending any additional time with him bothered me a great deal. But on the other hand, if he was here with me I could at least be assured of no late-night knocks on my door, no more 'wellness checks' until I could get my head straight. If Ambrose came to my door again while I was in this frame of mind, I'd probably be arrested for assaulting a police officer.

"All right," I agreed quietly. I think we were both surprised. In that moment, I knew it was about more than covering my ass from a potential conflict with good old Officer Ambrose. The truth was, I didn't want to be alone right then – and even Randy's company seemed acceptable.

We went in, and I immediately found blankets and pillows and tossed them on the couch. I was determined that there was going to be no way he could get the wrong impression from this. To my surprise, he settled in without protest and after a few seconds I retreated to my room.

I shut the door and, taking a shaky breath, went to my closet. I pulled several boxes off the shelves until I came across the one I was looking for. Sitting on my bedroom floor and preparing myself for hell to be unleashed, I opened it and began looking through the contents.

I hadn't been in my right mind at first. I'd saved every article about our accident, reading them over and over to ground myself in reality and convince myself that I wasn't just having a bad dream. Now I combed over the yellowed pages more carefully, skipping over mentions of Pete and our life together. Finally, the words I'd been looking for jumped into my line of view –

'Seven-year veteran Officer David Lundy and his partner, two-year veteran Officer Randy Orton, were the first on scene….'

I closed my eyes. OK. So he was telling the truth. I looked through the photos accompanying the articles, seeing a blurry glimpse of Randy in the background of one, hands on his hips and a defeated look on his face.

I tried to not see the pictures of Peter and I, pictures I'd avoided looking at for years now. Wedding photos, pictures from our honeymoon, any picture that the media had been able to get their hands on. We'd lived in a small town; it had been big news, and the local media had run it into the ground. I found myself looking at them in spite of my reluctance – our happy faces, frozen in time and unaware of just how few years we'd have together.

"Cass?"

I couldn't look away, my fingers tracing gently over Peter's face. It had been so long since I'd intentionally looked at him, and I was surprised that I'd forgotten so many little details about him.

I was only vaguely aware of Randy sitting down beside me. He didn't say anything for a long time, allowing me to sit in my grief. Finally, when the pain built up to a point where I would have to either explode or die, I dissolved into tears.

Randy wrapped his arms around me tightly, pushing my face into his chest and rocking the two of us back and forth. His hand stroked back through my hair, but he wisely didn't try to say anything to calm me down – perhaps sensing that I was beyond that point.

After what felt like several hours – but was probably only about fifteen minutes – I finally exhausted myself and the tears stopped flowing. I rested against Randy's chest, completely drained and mentally blank. I felt better for it, but I knew that I'd re-opened a wound that was going to take a long time to heal.

"Cass," Randy tried again, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. I looked up just as he crushed his lips down on mine.

I didn't fight him. In fact, I wanted him. I wanted that confirmation that I was alive; that my life wasn't over, in spite of what my emotions had to say on the matter. So I kissed him back fiercely, reaching for his shirt and pulling it off quickly.

"We don't have to-" he tried to say around my mouth.

"Shut up," I replied breathlessly, pushing forward and kissing him again.

My own shirt was lifted and tossed away, his face moving to kiss my breasts as he unhooked my bra. He lightly flicked each nipple with his tongue before I impatiently shoved him down onto his back, reaching for his belt buckle and unhooking it, yanking his pants down to mid-thigh. He was already semi-hard; a condition assisted greatly when I bent over and took him into my mouth. He exhaled sharply and wound his hands in my hair, watching me as I moved.

He took one hand and moved it down to pop the button on my jeans, shoving them down my hips until I could wriggle out of them. His fingers lightly brushed over my panties and I pulled away from him, yanking them off before straddling him and rubbing my wet lips over the head of his cock.

"Wait," he panted, "wait."

I watched, amazed, as he pulled a condom out of his back pocket and hastily ripped the package open before carefully rolling it down. He pulled me back into position and I immediately sank down on him, feeling him fill me completely.

I wasted no time working us into a furious pace, Randy gripping my hips tightly, his thumb rubbing my clit harder the faster I bounced on him. I had an orgasm quickly, tossing my head back and riding him roughly while my body trembled on top of him.

I collapsed onto him, burying my face in his neck. He kissed me over and over again, thrusting up into me as he held me tightly. He pulled back briefly, his hand stroking my face and his eyes burning into mine, and I could see the expression in his eyes change. I watched the desperation and the pleasure that filled them as I felt him throbbing inside of me, his hips jerking roughly against mine.

He pressed his lips to mine brutally, and I felt him finally let go, his moan stifled against my mouth. He pulled me down onto his chest again, cradling my body protectively against his. I listened as his heart beat slowed down and his breathing returned to normal, feeling him shrink and slip out of me, and still we stayed there on my bedroom floor, wrapped up in one another.

We didn't move for a very long time.


	25. Chapter 25

Randy's arm stroked lightly down my shoulder, his other hand resting on my stomach as he stared up at my ceiling. I had eventually moved to lie beside him and was currently staring across his rising and falling chest out my bedroom door into the hallway.

"So," he said in a low voice, "what do we do now?"

I considered the question for a moment. "I would like to go sleep for a thousand years."

He chuckled. "All right, Rip Van Taylor. We can make that happen." He sat up and stretched, kicking his jeans completely off before offering me his hand. I allowed him to pull me up to a seated position and then worked on standing up myself, my legs still a little shaky. I crawled into bed, watching Randy cautiously while he pulled his boxers up.

"Do you still want me to sleep on the couch?"

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted right now was to be alone with my thoughts. I figured that if Randy was here in the room with me, it would at least help me maintain some kind of composure. I tried to ignore the relief that was on his face as he slid into the bed beside me. I didn't want to think about how badly I was messing this situation up. I didn't want to think about the consequences of giving Randy some kind of hope that things were going to ever be good between us again. I just wanted, selfishly, a little bit of comfort. For the first time in a long time, I just didn't want to be alone.

I rolled over and clicked the bedside light off, pleased when he wrapped an arm tightly around me and didn't say anything. I drifted off into a surprisingly peaceful sleep, waking up the next morning to sunshine filtering through the curtains. I glanced at the clock – ten-thirty. It might not have been a thousand years, but it was certainly a long enough sleep.

Randy was still in the bed beside me, his arm still draped over my stomach. I went to move away from him slowly, and his arm suddenly stiffened, holding me against him.

"It hasn't been a thousand years yet," he murmured, his voice still half-asleep.

"How can you know? We've been asleep. Maybe the world spun wildly out of control and we're finally waking up."

His lips fell on my neck. "My world always spins wildly out of control when you're involved, Cass."

I paused. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

He laughed. "Both?" He asked, his lips brushing more insistently against my neck. His hand slid up to cup my bare breast, toying with my nipple. The disadvantage of being naked this morning was that I couldn't tell him he was having no effect on me – and it was pretty clear that I was having an effect on him.

"Randy," I said softly, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

He bit my neck lightly. "I'm fucking horny," he replied bluntly. "The only idea I have is climbing on top of you and pumping away." He pinched my hard nipple. "I think you're having similar thoughts."

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the distractions of his mouth and hands. This was a conversation that needed to happen now. "I'm not going to tell you that I don't want you, because that's a blatant lie. But I don't want you to think that this will end with us in a relationship, because it won't."

His hand slid down between my thighs and he began gently stroking me. "Mmm-hmm," he murmured against my neck.

"I'm serious."

"So am I," he said close to my ear, flicking his tongue out to lightly tease my earlobe. "I don't care about anything right now other than ramming my dick into you and making you scream my name. If you want to talk about hearts and flowers and feelings and shit, it can wait until after that."

His fingers became more insistent, and I unconsciously pressed my hips against him. "You want me, Cass," he said gently. "Don't fight it."

I turned my head and kissed him, rewarded when his fingers sped up. "That's it," he murmured against my mouth. "That's my good girl."

Keeping his fingers working, he rolled me onto my stomach and knelt behind me. We lie there, Randy gradually building up until I was on the verge of an intense orgasm. When it finally shot through me, I cried out and pressed back against his hand, my body shaking. He kept up the same pace, perhaps even sped up, and I just kept coming. It was becoming too much pleasure, almost to the point of pain, and I buried my face in my pillow and screamed. "Please please please," I whined, and I heard him laugh.

He finally stopped. "Please what, Cassidy?"

"Please no more."

I felt his fingers slowly withdraw and I heard a soft sucking sound. "You get more delicious every time I taste you," Randy said quietly, and I felt him pressing against me. He was so hard that for a brief moment I wasn't sure it was him, but the light throbbing convinced me. He teased the head of his cock through my wet, swollen, aching lips and I shuddered against my will.

"What do you say, honey?" He murmured. "I don't think I'll last more than three thrusts. Will that be long enough to make you cum again?"

"Probably," I admitted.

"I don't deal in chances," he said sternly, swatting my butt. "Yes or no?"

I considered the pleasurable pain and how much time had passed since he'd touched me. I was still considering when he gave me another light slap. "Answer me."

"No."

"Just what I wanted to hear."

I could hear the bed squeak as he shifted, and his tongue was suddenly jammed inside of me. I tossed my head back and practically howled, pressing my hips back against his face. He trailed his tongue down and teased my clit, sucking on it and flicking it rapidly.

I felt like I was about to have another orgasm, the most intense of the day, when he pulled away. With barely any hesitation, I felt him slam his dick completely inside of me. I could feel myself clench him tightly as I came off the bed, tears rolling down my cheeks as I yelled unintelligibly and uncontrollably.

"Fuck," I vaguely heard Randy say through all the noise and little explosions in my head. I could feel him throbbing in me, spilling into me, his hands grabbing my hips to pull me back into him.

My legs couldn't support my body weight any longer, and I collapsed onto the bed. Randy fell on top of me, kissing any part of me he could reach. We stayed like that until we both caught our breath and I stopped seeing stars.

He rolled me over and looked at me seriously. "Now here comes the part I'm going to hate," he said, brushing hair out of my eyes. "You want me to leave you."

The pain in his face was so brutally honest that it actually hurt me. "I don't know what I want," I admitted. "I wanted you here; I wanted _you_."

He stared at me for a few seconds. "Give me a second chance, Cass. Don't you see how good we would be together? How good we _are_ together? We've both put everything out on the table. There aren't any more secrets. We can work through anything we need to together." He bent and kissed me. "Fate put us here for a reason, and fate will keep throwing us together until we get it right. I believe that with everything in my heart. Let's both stop hurting and do what's right."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and studied him intently. "If you ever slap me again…" I started slowly.

He shook his head vehemently. "Never. I swear. If I do, you can leave me and I won't chase after you. If I blow it this time, I'll deserve that."

I closed my eyes. "You're willing to work through all my crazy?"

He smiled at me. "Since the night I first saw you, it's all I ever wanted to do."


	26. Chapter 26

For the first month, everything was perfect. I'd never in my life had a more considerate, romantic, and sweet partner. Randy was every woman's dream – right until he started to become my nightmare.

It wasn't obvious right away. He didn't like the idea of me drinking – even if it was just one – and driving, could I please have him pick me up from Margarita Monday? Or maybe just skip it all together? Reasonable request, I thought, and gave in. Then it was that he didn't like it when he couldn't get a hold of me immediately; it made him nervous. Could I please answer my phone whenever he called? Or at least tell him where I was when I was going to be out of reach?

I found that one a bit odd, but I chalked it up to his career. I supposed I could see how he'd get nervous if I wasn't available right away. I, again, gave in to that request and began telling him every time I'd be out of reach – even if it was for the twenty minutes I'd take in the shower.

I hoped that if I went along with what he wanted, he would eventually relax. Instead, it got worse.

I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until things finally blew up. Looking back, I should have seen that it was coming. Randy had been in a foul mood for the past week, snapping at me and needing to be in constant contact.

It was all over the most ridiculous thing. He called and told me that he'd forgotten to bring dinner to work; could I please bring him something? I was already in my pajamas and wanted nothing more than to zone out in front of the television for the night, but I also sensed that saying no would just give him something to be angry about.

It turns out, he would have been angry regardless. He was looking for a reason to fight, and he was going to find it – whether I provided it or not.

Blissfully unaware of this at the time, I turned into the parking lot of the station and stepped out, tupperware container in-hand. I walked through the front door, only to be greeted by the creepy smile of Dean Ambrose.

Since Randy and I had gotten back together, I'd seen Ambrose quite a few times. They were partners, after all. His indifference towards me had somehow changed tracks, and I caught him staring every now and again. He didn't take any pains to hide that he was looking in a lascivious way, sometimes licking his lips and grinning at me in an almost animalistic way.

Tonight was no different.

"Well, well," he greeted me, making my skin crawl uncomfortably. "Fancy seeing you here."

I tried to smile in a friendly way. "Hi Dean. Is Randy around?" I held up the container dumbly. "I brought him dinner."

"Lucky man, having a pretty woman take such good care of him." He stared at me for a minute and I did my best to not be freaked out. Thankfully, after a moment, Officer Reigns – Roman, as I'd come to know him – stepped into the reception area for something and Dean snapped out of it. He called for Randy, who came storming out while Roman and I exchanged pleasantries.

He snatched the container out of my hands. "I'm starving."

I laughed nervously. "Hello to you too."

He glanced up at me, the anger apparent on his face, before his brow smoothed and he leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek. "Thanks baby."

"Where's mine?" Roman joked, gesturing towards Randy's dinner.

I laughed. "Call me next time and tell me you forgot your dinner, too."

Roman grinned before heading back to whatever he was doing, and I felt Randy's hand circle my upper arm. "Can you come outside with me, please?"

I turned to look at him, seeing the tight smile and the flashing eyes, and knew that things were finally going to get bad for me. Part of me had been waiting for it, even while the other part of me tried to ignore that I was.

We stepped outside, and Randy began berating me immediately for 'flirting' with Roman.

"It wasn't like that," I protested meekly. "We were just kidding around."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Don't tell me it didn't happen when I was standing right there watching it, Cassidy." He slammed the container onto the pavement, spilling food everywhere. "You just made me look like an idiot in front of those guys. I'm their supervisor; you can't be doing that shit. They'll lose all respect for me."

I closed my eyes and tried to keep calm. "I'm sorry if you viewed it that way. I swear that it was not my intention." I hesitated. "If you want them to respect you, you might want to talk to Dean about how he behaves around me."

He grabbed me roughly by the shoulders. "Don't tell me," he growled, "who I should speak to and how to get my men to respect me. You don't know a damn thing about that."

"Please let go," I said quietly, trying to keep myself calm. "You're hurting me."

"Well you just hurt me in there, and you hurt me _far_ worse than I'm hurting you." He squeezed my arms tightly before letting go. "I need you to think carefully about what you're doing. If your next words aren't an apology, I'm going to get angry."

I considered it for a minute. "You're being unreasonable."

He gritted his teeth and his fists balled up angrily. "Cassidy," he said in a low, warning voice. "Don't fuck around."

"I have nothing to apologize for," I insisted, turning and walking away.

"Hey!" He yelled, his voice authoritative and terrifying. "Don't you walk away from me." I heard his footsteps rushing to catch up, and he spun me around. He grabbed my chin in one hand and yanked my face up so that I was staring him in the eye. "Apologize. Right now. Before I really lose my temper."

I realized that there might be a time to make a stand, but it wasn't right now. "I'm sorry."

He dropped my chin. "Was that so hard?" He asked, leaning forward and lightly pressing his lips against mine. "Now go pick up that plastic thing, get back in the car, and go get me dinner."

I was too frightened to do anything other than what he said.


	27. Chapter 27

"Cass?" His voice called through my house, barely registering in my sleepy head. "Baby, I'm home. Where are you?"

I threw the covers over my head, wanting him to just go away. He'd made me angry and terrified earlier tonight, and I didn't want to deal with him. I'd even ignored his token attempts at apology texts and phone calls, knowing that I would pay for that dearly later but too upset to care.

As I lie there stewing, I felt the bed sink beside me. "Is someone sleepy?" Randy's sing-song voice entered my head. He sounded positively giddy, and that made me even angrier.

He slowly rolled the covers down. "There she is," he said softly, bending and gently kissing me on the lips. "Why didn't you answer when I called?"

"I don't want to speak to you right now."

"Come on, pretty lady," he said, nudging me softly and pulling the covers down further. "We had a fight. We both apologized. We survived it. Let's move on." He kissed my forehead. "I love you."

I rolled away from him, and he sighed. "Cass," he murmured, laying in the bed beside me, wrapping an arm around me. He kissed my cheek and head, snuggling into me as if nothing was wrong.

"I wasn't flirting with him," I snapped hotly, picking his hand up and removing it from around me.

He was quiet for a few moments. "Honey, please don't take this the wrong way – but you don't understand the effect you can have on a man. You might not have _meant_ to flirt, but that's how it came across baby. I know you didn't mean it."

"I didn't _do_ it."

"Cassidy," he answered, his voice soothing and filled with an overabundance of patience – almost paternal in a way. "You did the same thing to me before we started dating without even realizing it. The way you say things, that cute little grin of yours – it sends the wrong signal to a man. Now I'm glad it did in my case, but now that we're together it might cause us some problems. I just want you to see and think about the consequences of your actions, no matter how harmless they might seem to you."

He carefully rolled me over to face him. "I love you. And maybe I get a little jealous because of that. I don't want any other man thinking for a minute that he can try to take you away from me." He bent forward and kissed my forehead. "This is hard for me to admit – I'm still afraid that you might decide I'm not right for you and leave me. I lose my head a little bit when I think that you might find another man."

"You need to stop. I hate the way you treated me tonight."

He pulled his lower lip out. "You're so cute when you're pouting." He bent and kissed me again, a little more forcefully this time. "I already explained to you. What do I have to do to make you stop acting this way?"

"Not treat me like a child."

"Do you think I'd treat a child like this?" He asked, and his hand was suddenly in my panties. "Because I sure in hell wouldn't." He paused for a moment. "I understand," he continued, slowly rolling so that he was on top of me. "You're a grown woman and you want to be treated as such." I could feel my body responding to him, in spite of my absolute determination not to do that. "But if you want to be treated that way, you need to act like an adult. You need to apologize and accept apologies in turn. I wanted to try and explain to you the reason for my actions tonight, and you just blew me off." He tilted his head, pausing in his rubbing. "What do you have to say about that?"

I considered his words for a few moments. He _had_ tried to explain why he'd flown off the handle. Did I like his explanation? No...but at least he'd offered it and admitted it was a flaw that he needed to work on.

He was staring down at me intently. "Come on, honey," he said gently. "Let's put this behind us now, ok?"

I leaned up to kiss him gently, and was rewarded when he started stroking me again. "That's it," he grinned against my mouth. "That's my good, beautiful girl."

"You need to know," I interrupted, before we got too carried away, "that you were way out of line tonight. I'm not _goinganywhere_, not as long as you treat me with respect. Fabio himself couldn't tear me away from you."

He grinned. "That's because you're not into blondes," he teased, before noting my exasperated expression. "But yes, I understand. Message received, loud and clear pretty lady."

We went about the business of making up, and I had some hope that things were going to return back to how they had been.

They didn't. At least, not permanently.

It was always the same – Randy would be perfect for a little while. And I mean honest-to-God perfect, romance novel material. But then he'd start to come down. He'd be quiet; his fuse would be a little shorter than usual. He'd need constant contact with me, calling almost every half-hour to see where I was and what I was doing. And then...

Then the explosion would come. It could be anything that set him off. Traffic when we were running late (my fault, of course). His favorite shirt wasn't clean when he wanted to wear it (also my fault). He couldn't find the TV remote (guess who he blamed for that).

Each time he exploded, it got just a little bit worse. He would throw things, break things with his fists, or simply yell and scream, the cords on his neck standing out and his face bright red. He would grab me, yank me by the hair or shoulders or shirt, whatever he could get his hands on. But he never hit me again.

Then he would be perfect, romance-novel Randy again for a few weeks.

I think that's why I kept telling myself it wasn't so bad. He didn't hit, so he wasn't doing anything wrong. He was just a man with a bad temper. And he was always so sorry afterwards, sobbing regretfully that he'd just lost control and that he loved me, and pleading with me not to leave.

I started being very careful about what I said and how I treated him. That eventually extended into who I spoke with or spent time with, even at work. Still, I thought that all of this was liveable, and I thought that it was worth it – when things were good, they were wonderful. And, in spite of my own brokenness, I had started to love him deeply.

We continued on this track for a year before things took a turn for the absolute worst, and my life changed forever – all because of a few simple sentences.

"My lease is up next month. Why don't I move in here with you?"


	28. Chapter 28

I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly at first.

He glanced up from his plate, a mouthful of spaghetti. "Cass?"

"Sorry," I replied, shaking myself out of it. "Did you just say you wanted to move in with me?"

He grinned, shrugging. "I spend most of my time here anyway. Consolidating our expenses means I can start saving up for a ring."

Those words hit me like a punch in the gut. "Are you sure we're ready for that?"

He was in a good mood tonight; he took my question in stride. "I feel ready for it. You're everything to me. I know you might take some time to catch up, but I figured that's why we'd try the cohabitation thing first. Set you at ease a little bit, live like we're married without actually being married for awhile. Let you see how good it'll be."

I remained silent, my brain working furiously on how I could tactfully let him down. His temperament had been pretty awful lately, and I was getting pushed closer and closer to finally leaving him. Having him move in with me would make it that much harder to have a clean break.

"Spit it out," he sighed, putting his fork down and pushing his chair back from the table. "Let's get this all out in the open."

I swallowed and tried to smile at him. "I love you," I elected to start with. "It's just...I don't think that it's a great idea for us to move in together. We've had a lot of arguments lately, and your temper really frightens me sometimes. I'm not sure how it will be when we can't retreat to separate corners for a little while and cool down."

He studied me intently for a few moments, arms crossed over his chest. "Peter didn't have a temper?" He asked.

"No," I answered. "I don't think he ever yelled, the whole time we were together."

Randy nodded slowly, keeping his eyes trained on me. "So you've never been with a man who had a temper before." I shook my head. "Then how can I convince you that this is just normal? I'll get mad as hell. I'll yell and scream and say stupid things I don't mean. But then I'll apologize and life will go on." He paused. "Do you enjoy the times where I'm not mad?"

A small smile crossed my lips. "Those are my favorite times," I admitted.

"Then there you go, baby. We're going to have bad times, but there will be good times too. It's the flow of any relationship."

I hesitated. I could see the sense in what he was saying, but it still felt off to me. "Can I take some time to think about it?"

He looked surprised, then snorted derisively. "You want me to be homeless?"

"No, of course not – couldn't you just renew your lease?"

"You want a whole year to think about it?" He shook his head. "That's not thinking, that's stalling. Besides," he pushed his chair back to the table and picked up his fork. "I already told the landlord I'd be out. It's here or nowhere, honey. Please don't let that happen."

I returned to my meal in silence, even though my stomach was roiling angrily. It was a combination of fear and irritation – Randy had somehow just managed to move in with me without consulting me about it, and I didn't know what was going to happen to my life now.

I knew better than to confront him about it. I'd learned that over our year together. Randy did what he thought was best, and any question of his thought process led to the inevitable explosion. I always did my best to avoid that.

We settled in to watch TV after dinner. Randy had actually helped with the dishes tonight, something he usually only did after we'd had a fight. I realized that he was trying to show me 'how good' it would be when he was here all the time, but I had trouble believing that it would actually be this way all the time.

Somehow, I knew better.

"You're quiet," Randy murmured, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Is everything ok?"

Only he would think that having the ability to make a major life decision ripped from me was commonplace, and that I should be my bubbly self after the fact.

Still, I nestled into him. "I'm just tired, baby," I lied. "It was a long day."

"Why don't you get ready for bed, then? Rest up. I can entertain myself."

I did what he suggested, almost mechanically. Some part of me knew that this was wrong, but my immediate sense of self-preservation had me on autopilot. Doing what he asked was just easier than dealing with the consequences.

I tossed and turned for awhile, trying to reconcile this huge step in my head. It wasn't working. I wanted to go back out into that room and tell him that it wasn't going to happen, but I was terrified of how he would react.

I finally fell into a fitful sleep, unhappy dreams chasing me through the night.

I woke up suddenly to a dark room, my heart racing. "Cass," Randy's voice came from beside me, "you're OK."

His hand was on my breast, kneading and squeezing. After a moment, I felt his tongue circle the nipple of my other breast and I realized that was why I'd woken up. He closed his mouth around my nipple, sucking gently while his fingers lightly pinched my other one.

I could feel him shifting on the bed, moving on top of me – and suddenly his mouth was roaming down, kissing a trail down my abdomen. He paused when he reached my panties, his hot breath blowing against my thighs.

It seemed to take him forever, but probably only because of the state I was in at the time. When he hooked his fingers inside my waistband and pulled them down, I felt relief flood through me.

His tongue was gentle at first, running through my lips and avoiding my clit, tasting and teasing everything around that pleasure center. As a result, I was desperate when his tongue finally, agonizingly slowly, inched towards it and made contact. I moaned softly, pressing my hips towards his face, and his tongue retreated.

I let out a frustrated groan and heard him chuckle. "Impatient little girl tonight," he said quietly. "Be good and let me do my work."

His tongue returned to that pleasurable torture of before, waiting several pleasurably excruciating moments before he began lightly flicking my clit with his tongue. I let out a happy sigh, but did my best to keep my hips on the bed. I was rewarded when he began sucking, his tongue still fluttering against my sensitive flesh.

My heart was pounding in my chest, the pleasure flooding through me immense and beyond comprehension. A strong hand slid up to grab my breast, and I bent my head to kiss the tips of his fingers. He suddenly stopped the light, gentle pressure of his tongue and began licking and sucking fiercely. My hips were rocking against him of their own accord, but he continued this sweet assault on me.

When he jammed two fingers roughly inside of me, I cried out as a sweet spasm shot through me. Randy pinned my hips to the bed, riding out my orgasm. His fingers remained inside of me, his tongue still licking as I came down.

He finally pulled himself up to his knees, and he was buried inside of me within seconds.

"Taste," he instructed, pushing his wet fingers against my lips. I opened my mouth to allow him access and lightly sucked on his fingers for several seconds, swirling my tongue around them. I was amused to feel him throb inside of me before he yanked them away.

He hovered over me, his hands pinned to either side of my head. I raised my hips up to accommodate him, pleased when he was able to enter me deeper than before. We rocked back and forth, guttural moans of pleasure occasionally escaping our lips.

Randy waited until I'd had a second orgasm to allow himself to finish, gasping and panting as he throbbed wildly inside of me.

In the quiet moments just after, he bent and lightly kissed my nose.

"Every night, sweetheart," he said gently. "Every night from here on out."

I wrapped my arms around his neck in a false show of happiness. Because even then, even when he was at his sweetest, I knew.

It wouldn't work out that way. Not at all.


	29. Chapter 29

The trouble started the very first day he officially moved in, although it didn't come at all in the form I was expecting.

Several of the younger guys on the force helped out – Roman, his partner Seth, and of course Dean. Randy joked that he was using them as slave labor and whoever was the most helpful would be up for the most overtime shifts whenever he was dispensing them.

All it meant for me was that I didn't need to haul any of the heavy stuff. I was relegated instead to wrapping dishes in newspaper and packing them away into boxes. Most of Randy's stuff was going to be stored in my house until we got around to deciding what to do with it. He'd gotten rid of a few things here and there, and I'd gotten rid of stuff to make way for some of his larger items. In essence, I was going to have a house and an apartment shoved into my little three-bedroom house. I was suddenly grateful for the attic and basement, because they were going to be packed to the brim after today.

Randy was in an exceptionally cheery mood, even as he and the guys were moving the heavy stuff. He often swung by me just to give me a quick kiss, grinning happily before rushing off to instruct the younger guys on the finer points of moving.

I should have been happy. Instead, I was dreading the next few weeks. He'd been romance-novel Randy for too long, and I could sense that when he came down this time it would be the worst it had ever been. I wasn't scared, necessarily, just resigned to that fate. I didn't know how I could prevent it or stop it from happening, so I simply went along with it and decided I'd ride out whatever storm blew in.

Everything went incredibly smoothly, and we were all gathered around an impromptu fire pit in my backyard by six that evening. Randy ordered pizza and passed out beers, cradling an arm around my shoulders as we sat beside one another – the perfect picture of happiness.

We were joined by Seth's girlfriend and Roman's wife before long, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I caught Dean's eyes a few times, watching me carefully over the fire. He hadn't done anything exceptionally creepy today, and so I elected to ignore him.

It was going well until I went inside the house with an armful of empties. I stood at the sink, washing them out and lost in my own thoughts – which were, admittedly, a bit alcohol-laden at the time. Still, it was soothing to be in the quiet for a few minutes, just me and the running water, the occasional clink as I set a bottle down.

Hands wrapped around my waist from behind just as I finished rinsing out the last bottle. I absently leaned back into Randy, reaching forward to turn off the water. "What's up, babe?"

Lips pressed against the side of my head, a hand sliding up my torso to gently grip my breast. I swatted him playfully. "Not while we have guests," I teased, spinning around. My next words died on my lips as it registered that the man behind me wasn't Randy.

"Dean, what the fuck are you doing?"

An amused smirk found its way onto his lips, and he shrugged before leaning forward and attempting to kiss me. I placed two hands on his chest and pushed him away, turning my head so that his lips grazed my cheek.

"Get out of here," I snapped, hitting his chest for good measure.

He grabbed the back of my head with one hand and turned my neck to face him. "Cassidy. I've seen the way you look at me. You don't have to pretend."

"What are you _talking_ about?" I snapped, shoving at his chest ineffectually.

"Come on now, cutie." He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine, his tongue roughly shoving between my lips. I slapped at him, kicked, attempted to get away – but he held me tightly, my blows bouncing off him as if I was a child.

Suddenly, he was gone – and Randy and Dean were a blur of fighting men on my floor.

I stepped back out of instinct, watching helplessly as they traded angry blows. It ended abruptly when Randy bounced Dean's head off of the tile floor, and Dean stopped fighting.

He stood up and spun towards me, panting. The anger on his face was fierce, and I was terrified. "Did he hurt you?" Randy demanded, taking my chin in his hand and turning my face back and forth to study me for any marks.

"No," I replied. "No, I'm ok."

Randy turned and kicked Dean in the ribs angrily. I think he would have done more if Seth and Roman hadn't come to see what the commotion was right then.

"Get his drunk, stupid ass home," Randy growled to them. "And leave him a note that he can expect a visit from me first thing in the morning."

With quiet apologies, Seth and Roman lifted Dean to his feet and dragged him out my front door. I wrapped my arms tight around myself, trying to hold back angry tears. Randy wrapped a protective arm around me, waiting until everyone had cleared the house to spin me to him.

"What the fuck happened?"

I relayed the whole story to him, deathly afraid that he was going to point out just where I had gone wrong and invited that kind of behavior from his partner. It wasn't my belief that I'd done anything, but Randy had a way of making me see that I elicited trouble from time to time.

Instead, to my immense relief, he shook his head and his fists clenched tightly. "I should have believed you when you told me to watch him around you," he responded in a low voice. "I'm sorry, honey. And I'm going to make sure that he's sorry, too." He paused, and a small smile came across his lips. "Not exactly the first night I'd imagined."

I shook my head. "No. I didn't quite picture it going this way, either."

"How did you picture it going?"

Before I could answer, he stepped closer to me and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. "Maybe a bit like this?" He bent and kissed me, his lips gentle on mine.

I wanted to tell him that this was the last thing I wanted, but after watching him beat the hell out of Dean I knew better. I could tell that he was already a little turned on, and if I turned him down now he'd pester me all night until I gave in.

So I kissed him back, eventually allowing him to take me to what had been my bedroom – to what was now _our_ bedroom.

He paused for a moment, hovering above me, before kissing me chastely on the lips.

"I promise you," he said in a low voice, "he's going to pay for that. OK, Cass? Nobody's going to hurt you like that while I'm around."

I nodded, swallowing down the fear that suddenly filled my chest. I tried to ignore it, unsure as to why I was suddenly afraid. As he kissed my neck roughly, his teeth nipping my skin, I had the startling realization.

He was my great protector – and the man I probably had the most to fear harm from. There was no safe haven for me.


	30. Chapter 30

I woke up the next morning alone in bed, to the low murmur of voices in my kitchen and the occasional clink of a glass. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep before realizing it was useless and stood up, wincing as my muscles reminded me that Randy had been particularly...passionate...last night.

I dressed slowly before wandering down to the kitchen. I stopped short just after I walked in the doorway – Dean and Randy were sitting at my table, two mugs of coffee in front of them.

Dean glanced up at me, his face reddening immediately. He had a black eye and a puffy lip, and I had a particularly vicious thought that I wish he'd gotten worse than that.

Randy looked over at me. "Dean came to apologize," he explained, gesturing me over.

I moved towards the table automatically, sitting beside Randy.

Dean took a deep breath. "I am so sorry," he said, sounding relatively sincere. "I was incredibly drunk and I got carried away. I'm sorry for making you feel uncomfortable and for..." He suddenly looked down, obviously embarrassed. "...for forcing my affection on you. It won't happen again."

I glanced over at Randy, who gave a slight nod of his head.

"Thank you for apologizing," I started, even though the last thing I wanted to do was forgive this man. "We all do stupid things when we're drunk. Just please try to conduct yourself with a bit more restraint in the future."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, his cheeks still red. Randy reached over and placed a comforting hand on my thigh. I managed a small smile, although I'm sure it looked as insincere as it felt.

"I'm going to go take a shower and start unpacking," I announced, refusing to sit at this table for another minute but knowing that I needed to be polite. "Thanks for coming back out here, Dean. I really appreciate the apology."

I could see Randy's eyes narrowed in my direction, but right then I didn't care. I was allowed to be a little cross with his partner after what had happened. Let the two of them make nice; I was going to go elsewhere and avoid the situation for a little while.

I made my way back to the master bath and scrubbed myself in the shower, glancing down at the fingertip-shaped bruises on my hips. Randy had really done a number on me last night. I glanced at my wrists and noticed that I was bruised there as well, presumably from when he had pinned me down on the bed. I then began taking careful stock and found numerous red, angry love bites on my breasts and inner-thighs, some of which had also bruised over.

"Christ," I murmured, shaking my head.

"Cassidy," the devil himself called through the door then, gently knocking. "I'd like to speak with you."

Of course he would. "I'll be right out, honey. Just let me rinse my hair." I ducked under the water with my eyes closed – which was why I was surprised when it suddenly turned off.

"Now," Randy said from beside me. I opened my eyes and through droplets of water saw that he was handing me a towel. I took it unhappily, wiping my face and wrapping it around myself before stepping out into the room.

His eyes raked over me uncomfortably for a minute before he took my hand and yanked me into the bedroom, shoving me towards the bed. I sat in agonizing silence while he paced in front of me for a few minutes.

"That," he finally snarled, "was incredibly rude of you this morning."

I could feel my eyebrows stitch together before I thought better of it and attempted to smooth out my expression. "It wasn't at all intended that way – "

"Shut up. Do you think I give a fuck how it was intended? Perception is what matters, pretty lady, and I _perceived_ that you were being a really uppity bitch to my partner. And after he'd come to _apologize_ no less! It wasn't like he was here to tell you that he'd do it again the minute you two were alone."

I clutched the towel around me uncomfortably. I was sure saying anything would just cause him to snap at me again, but now he was staring at me expectantly.

"It was just an awkward situation," I tried to explain.

He pursed his lips and tilted his head before shaking it angrily. "You think I don't know that? It's called being an adult, Cassidy." He pointed in the direction of the kitchen. "You think I liked sitting out there with the man who wants to fuck my girlfriend? You think I liked listening to his apology and saying that it was all hunky-dory when I wanted to slam his face into a table?"

He knelt down and grabbed me roughly by the shoulders. "Grow up," he growled, shaking me slightly. "Grow the fuck up and behave appropriately, for Christ's sake. You're not that stupid."

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, and he committed the cardinal sin – he slapped me across the face, hard enough to toss my head to the side. I turned back to him, wide-eyed.

"What the fuck was that for?" I asked, bringing my hand up to my cheek. He slapped me again, harder this time.

"You don't question me. Got it?"

I glared up at him angrily. "Get out."

He laughed. "I don't think I will. What are you going to do, baby? Call the cops?" He asked scornfully. "What do you want to bet the odds are that I know the guys on duty today? What do you want to bet that they know you were drinking last night and had an 'incident' with another officer? What do you want to fucking bet," he leaned forward and grabbed my by the hair, "that they believe me instead of you? You'd better be willing to bet your fucking life, because if you call and I have to lose face because of you for the third time in less than twenty-four hours, I just might fucking kill you."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine, hard and angry. I shoved at his shoulders feebly, attempting to push him away from me.

"No," he said calmly, grabbing me by the hair and yanking. "You've done enough stupid things already this morning. Be a smart girl, be a good girl, and take your medicine."

I reached out and slapped him, desperate, and he rocked me with a punch to the jaw. I was seeing stars as I hit the bed, and I heard him sigh.

"See what you make me do?" I heard a sound that I was able to place after a few seconds as his belt being removed. "Are you going to try any other stupid thing, or are you going to be smart and do what I say?"

I tasted blood in my mouth and swallowed it back down. Even in this state, I knew that spitting it everywhere would only make him angrier.

He grabbed me by the hair again, yanking me into an upright position. "Answer me, Cassidy," he said, a hint of threat in his voice. "Before I lose my temper, now."

I stared into his eyes for a second before I answered. "I'll do what you say," I said slowly, my voice weak.

"Louder."

I cleared my throat. "I will do what you say," I repeated.

"Good," he nodded. "Then take that towel off and lay down on your stomach."

I looked at him suspiciously for a few seconds, complying only when I saw anger creep back into his eyes.

He made me lie there for several minutes without touching me, without even saying a word. They were some of the most frightening moments of my life. The fear of what was to come next was infinitely worse than having it actually happen to me.

Finally, I felt his hands on my calves, yanking my legs apart. "Cassidy," he said as his fingers began to lightly probe between my lips, stroking my clit roughly, "there is only one thing you need to know in order for us to have a happy relationship. If you know this, if you believe it, if you act according to this one, simple thing – everything in our lives will be perfect."

He paused his speech as he lightly pushed two fingers inside of me. "Do you know what that one, simple fact is?"

"No," I replied, fighting back tears.

"You belong to _me_. You are _mine_. Learn that simple fact, and everything will be ok." His other hand came suddenly up to wrap around my neck, pulling my head off the bed and yanking me back. "If you _don't_ learn it, well..." he continued jamming his fingers roughly into me, adding a third and scraping his fingernails down against my inner walls. "I'm not responsible for what I'll do to you."

He dropped me back on the bed and I gasped for air, the tears I'd been fighting finally spilling over.

"Now," he continued firmly, and I heard his zipper being lowered, "I'm going to take what's mine."


	31. Chapter 31

I thought Randy had been rough the night before. After that terrifying occurrence, I realized that he had been nice. I wasn't so lucky after I'd managed to piss him off.

I rolled away from his soft snoring slowly, wincing and trying desperately not to wake him. I was a sticky, sweaty mess – but I didn't dare leave that bed. That decision was re-affirmed when he rolled and flung an arm around my midsection, nestling his body into mine. He mumbled contentedly in his sleep before starting to lightly snore again.

Cautiously, I lifted the sheet. I knew that he'd been rough enough to make me bleed, but I hadn't realized how bad it actually was. The tops of my thighs were dark red, caked and crusted with rapidly-drying blood. I put the sheet down, holding back angry tears. I ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth, feeling that all of my teeth were still there. The right side of my face was swollen and hot, painful when I rested even a single finger against it. I didn't dare look at the rest of my torso, remembering – unwillingly – how tightly he had gripped me, making it painful to even breathe. I wasn't sure I could handle any more of this mental assessment without starting to scream.

I closed my eyes to stem the tide of tears and just barely managed to hold them back. I'd been stupid, thinking that everything would work out, and now he'd gone and really hurt me. I realized in that moment that things wouldn't get better – they would only continue to get worse, and we would go on this way until he killed me.

I had to get out.

Randy inhaled sharply, his snoring stopping abruptly. I had the insane notion that he'd somehow heard my thought and was going to punish me again, but all he did was murmur, "C'mere baby," and gently prod me to turn so that I was resting against his chest. He stroked a hand back through my hair, lightly kissing my forehead before falling back into a light sleep.

My mind worked furiously. I realized that there was no way I could reasonably end things with him – it was going to have to be swift, brutal, and final. I had a vague notion of a plan, but it would have to wait to be put into practice. I needed him out of the house for a decent length of time, and he was off for the next two days.

I closed my eyes. Two days. Hopefully I could survive it. He'd had his period of brutality, so maybe he'd be nice now. I thought wistfully of the good times before I forced myself to look at the reality of the situation. The good times wouldn't last; they never did. I needed to do this, and do it as quickly as humanly possible.

I lie there on his chest for a long time, fortifying myself for this course of action. It wasn't going to be easy. I would need to give no hint of my true intentions, and once the day came – I was going to need to fucking _move_ to get everything done. The deep ache that ran through my whole body reminded me that it was going to be worth every moment so I would never feel this way again.

Randy finally woke up in the early afternoon and smiled sleepily at me. He was, of course, back to being a normal human being. He took my chin and kissed me sweetly before suggesting I go take a shower while he started working on unpacking. When I came out, he was working like a fiend. The only acknowledgment he gave to the events that had happened that morning was to wordlessly hand me an ice-pack and gesture vaguely to my face.

I moved throughout the rest of the next two days mechanically, although I tried hard to smile and be present so he didn't suspect anything. He still seemed to know – he didn't leave me alone for even a single moment. It went so far that he'd stand outside the bathroom door and converse with me whenever I tried to duck in.

He was kind and respectful, even giving in when I physically couldn't have sex with him during that time. Everything still hurt. It was healing slowly, but I knew it would take some time before I felt at all like myself.

I was tense when Monday morning rolled around. I dressed and got made up as if I was going to work, even going so far as to actually park my car in the lot of my office. That decision was rewarded when I watched Randy's truck crawl by on his way to work. Once he spotted my parked car he sped up and moved on, apparently satisfied.

I started the barrage of phone calls then – locksmith and movers and storage companies, calling desperately to find people who were available today, preferably _now_. It worked. I then called in to take off from work, praying that it would be the last time I had to do that because of him.

After a quick stop to straighten out the details with the storage company, I sped home and wasted no time re-packing all of his stuff. I wasn't gentle; I wasn't careful – I just needed it in boxes. About halfway through this process the locksmith showed up and very efficiently outfitted my doors with new deadbolts. Moments after his departure, the movers showed up.

Every man among them pointedly ignored my face, something that made me feel both angry and grateful. Nobody was going to even bother asking? Part of me wanted to scream it out to the world that this man had _hurt_ me...but a much larger part simply wanted it all to go away.

The moving truck left my house around two that afternoon, an hour before Randy was supposed to get off work. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I called him.

"Hey babe," he answered, sounding distracted. "What's up?"

I swallowed hard. "I don't want to be with you any more," I started.

"What?" His voice immediately became sharp and interested. "What are you talking about?"

"I moved all your stuff out this afternoon. I changed the locks. We're done, Randy."

He fell silent, although I could hear ebbing voices in the background. "What are you doing, Cass? What the fuck...?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head. He knew. I gave him the details about his storage unit and told him I'd booked him a room in a hotel for a week. Then I hung up.

He called back immediately. It took everything in me not to answer, but I didn't. I let the phone scream and dance across my kitchen table, hugging myself tightly.

When the calls stopped, I knew I was in trouble. I ran out and pulled my car into the garage before going around and locking all the new deadbolts. Once that was done, I dropped onto the couch and curled up tightly as if that would stop the impending storm.

It didn't.

He showed up, as I expected, and tried his key in the front door. I heard him cursing from the living room when it didn't work. He started pounding angrily, yelling my name.

"You fucking _coward_," he bellowed when I didn't answer. "You'd do this without even _talking_ to me about it? You dumb fucking _bitch_!" He lowered his voice, and in spite of myself, I stepped closer to the door to hear him.

"Open this door, Cassidy. You open this door now, or you'll be sorry." I found myself walking towards the door without conscious thought, my hand outstretched. I pulled it back quickly. "_Open up_!" He screamed, pounding on the door so hard that it rattled angrily in its frame. I watched as he attempted to turn the doorknob rapidly, then heard the thud of him ramming his body into it.

"Cassidy!" He howled, and it was such a desperate, inhumane sound that I instinctively pulled back from it. "Cass, please," he added, sounding pitiful. I could see him drop his head against the door. "Please. Let's just talk about this. I don't have to stay here. We don't even have to be together. I just want to know what the _hell _is going on."

I absently brought my hand up to wipe away the tears that had started running down my cheeks – tears of fright, of desperation, and of sadness. My world came to a standstill for a few moments. I wanted to open that door and apologize, and tell him that I shouldn't have done things this way. But I knew if I did, he'd only suck me back in. It wouldn't ever stop.

"All right, Cass," he said in a low voice. He sounded heartbroken. "All right."

I heard him walk away, his boots crunching on the driveway. I listened as his truck started and he backed out, hearing the engine sound fade as he drove down my road.

It was over.

I sank into a heap on my kitchen floor, crying tears of gratitude and grief.


	32. Chapter 32

That night was miserable.

Randy, after many hours of radio silence, finally called around ten. Against my better judgment, I answered. I just wanted to know that he was safe.

We were both a mess. He sounded shell-shocked, and before long we were both crying.

"Can I please come home?" He blurted out through sobs. "Please?"

I bit my lip. "No. You know that. I told you that if you ever hit me again, we were done. I have to stand by that. I can't...I can't live like that."

He was quiet for a long time. "You're right," he said, sounding completely defeated. "I was so stupid. I lost my head. I...I need help, Cass. I need help."

I closed my eyes, tears spilling out onto my cheeks. "Yeah," I agreed softly.

"Please help me."

"I can't," I whispered. "That is so far beyond the scope of my abilities."

"No it isn't. I just need _you_. Please. Just let me see you. Just for a few minutes. We can talk."

I shook my head. "Not tonight, ok? It's just all a little too...fresh. I need some time."

"You are breaking my heart. I can literally feel it shattering in my chest."

"This isn't easy for me either," I protested.

"Certainly doesn't seem that way." The anger that crept into his voice was unmistakable. "This wasn't a whim. You planned this, you executed it perfectly, and you never gave me a hint that anything was wrong. You never even tried talking to me. It's like...it's like you wanted this all along. How can I believe that it hurts you so badly when I look at all the evidence?"

I hesitated. "I don't know," I admitted.

"You don't know," he repeated snidely. "That's just fucking great. You did all this because...you don't know."

"I did all this because you physically assaulted me, Randy," I snapped.

"_Physically assaulted?!_ Oh come off it! I slapped you because you were behaving like an asshole and I wanted to snap you out of it. Was I wrong? Yes. Was it as horrible as you make it out to be? No. I've seen plenty of women who were actually physically assaulted, and I wish you had too – maybe you'd change your fucking tune then."

"This conversation is getting us nowhere. We're both obviously emotional about this."

"No fucking shit I'm emotional! In the space of twelve hours, I lost my girlfriend and my home, and I _don't even fucking know why_. You don't even have the decency to explain that to me."

My brow furrowed. "I've been telling you over and over again why – you hurt me."

"If you thought that hurt, Cassidy...if you thought that was a fucking nightmare...just you wait, pretty lady. Just you fucking wait."

He hung up abruptly.

I didn't sleep that night. I was on edge, wondering if something was going to happen. I occasionally dropped off for a few minutes, only to be awoken by some small noise or my own mind. In the end, the sun rose on a new day and I had wasted a night worrying over nothing.

In spite of my exhaustion, I soldiered on and went to work. I wasn't going to let this overrun the rest of my life. I flung myself into doing my work, and doing it perfectly, in order to take my mind off of everything. It was going well until that afternoon, when I received a delivery of a huge bouquet of roses.

Unhappily, I dug the card out – '_You've had my heart since hello. Nothing will ever change that. Not distance, not time, not space. Nothing will __ever__ take my heart away from you.'_

It wasn't signed, but I had a pretty good idea who it was from. That was only confirmed when I walked out to my car that night and Randy was parked beside it. He looked as miserable as I felt, but he tried to smile when he saw me.

"Hey pretty lady. Need a ride somewhere?"

I stepped up towards the driver's side. "Randy, you need to stop this."

He hung his head and sighed. "I felt bad about how I left things last night. Can we go and grab dinner tonight? I just want to talk to you."

I paused. "Not tonight. Maybe in a few weeks."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have other plans?"

"Just bed. I didn't sleep at all last night. I'm not in any kind of state of mind for a serious conversation."

"Then let's just have a casual conversation. We don't have to talk about anything that happened between us. We can just hang out."

I shook my head. "I just don't feel up to it; I'm sorry."

"We don't have to go out. We can stay in. Order a pizza, watch a stupid movie...please, Cass."

In spite of myself, I reached out and gently covered his hand with mine. "Maybe at the end of the week, ok? I know I'm not going to make it much past my drive home."

He was quiet for a few minutes, and I felt myself wobbling on my feet. "Then let me drive you home, at least. I don't like the idea of you driving when you're so tired."

I managed a small smile. "I'll be ok. Promise."

He stared at me unhappily. "All right," he finally relented. "Get going, then. Please drive safe."

"I will," I reassured him, taking my hand away from his before waving goodbye and getting into my car.

This was a strange way to feel. I knew that it was over, that it was for the absolute best that it was over, and a big part of me was relieved and happy. Yet, there was still a piece of me that ached to see him hurting so badly. That piece ached because he wasn't around. I knew it wasn't logical and I beat myself up over feeling that way. I shouldn't...but I did.

I was pulled over about three miles from my house.

I watched with a heavy heart as Ambrose stepped out of the car. I knew that he knew it was me, but when he stepped up to my window he didn't give any hint of recognition.

"License and registration."

I handed everything over to him wordlessly. "Any idea why I pulled you over?"

"No."

"You were weaving. Had anything to drink tonight?"

"No sir. Just tired."

He glanced up at me then. "Trouble sleeping lately?" He asked, his voice hard. "I couldn't begin to imagine why."

"Dean – " I started, wanting to explain.

"I don't understand it, Cassidy," he snapped. "It was _my_ fault, what happened. Not Randy's. Yet you tossed him out on his ass after he defended you?" He shook his head. "That's fucking cold. I didn't think you – of all people, you – had it in you to do that."

"It wasn't about what happened with you." I paused. "Not directly."

"Then what the fuck was it about?"

"Randy knows."

Dean shook his head more vehemently. "No, he fucking doesn't. The guy is heartbroken. He has no idea what he's done or what he can possibly do to fix it. He's lost, all because of you. You're acting like a selfish brat."

"I'm not going to discuss my relationship with you."

"You're not?" He nodded. "Ok. Then I'm impounding your fucking car and you're going to jail on suspicion of driving while ability impaired. I'll need to take you in to compel the bloodwork from you."

"You haven't even tested me!" I argued.

"Don't need to field test you for drugs, sweetheart. Want to rethink your attitude?"

I took a deep breath. "I just want to go home and sleep," I replied calmly. "Please. This hasn't been easy for me either."

"Poor baby."

"I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm just telling you the truth. Please let me go home." I looked up at him. "Please."

It might have been my imagination, but his eyes softened the slightest bit. "I can't let you drive," he said. "Do you have anyone you can call?"

I took a quick mental stock. "No," I admitted. "I don't."

Sighing, he pulled out his cell phone. "I'm going to call Randy for you."

"Dean, please – I really don't want to see him."

"This or the impound lot and a cell, Cass. Your choice."

Defeated, I let him make the phone call.


	33. Chapter 33

"I told you that I didn't want you driving home," he admonished gently as I climbed up into his truck. I elected not to say anything, simply shrugging.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Seth was following us in my car, while Roman followed him in their cruiser. "An escort home for three whole miles," I said dryly. "Don't know what I did to deserve such royal treatment."

Randy's lips curled upward. "We're a family. We watch out for our own." He reached over and lightly put a hand on my thigh, his thumb stroking back and forth absently.

We pulled into my driveway and Randy gestured towards the door. "Go on. I'm going to get your car keys from Seth. I'll be right behind you."

I knew better than to argue after he had just saved my ass, so I walked in and sank into a chair at my kitchen table. After a moment, I leaned forward and put my head on the table, cradling it with my arms as a make-shift pillow and wondered how in the Hell I'd gotten right back here again.

So much for a clean break.

He made his way in after a few minutes and I sat up, stifling a yawn with the back of my hand. He hung my keys up on the board I had in the kitchen.

"Go get changed," he said, his voice gentle. "Get into something comfortable. I'm going to order in pizza and then we're both going to crash on the couch and pretend that the world isn't falling down around us."

"Randy..."

"Cass, please. I need this."

Part of it was that I was exhausted. Another part of it was that I was grateful that he'd dropped everything to come to my rescue. And a not-so-small part of it was that I was just as conflicted as he seemed to be.

So I did something stupid – I nodded and went to go put on the most comfortable pair of pajamas I could find. When I came back downstairs, Randy was already on the couch channel-surfing. He patted the cushion next to him and I sat down, unsurprised when he pulled me onto his chest and wrapped an arm tightly around my shoulders.

"Pizza will arrive in about half an hour," he said. "What terrible television would you like to watch until then?"

I shrugged and allowed him to pick something. We were both quiet for a long time, staring at the TV with eyes that weren't really seeing anything. After about five minutes, Randy began gently stroking my hair back from my face. It was innocent at first, even soothing. Then he began tracing the line of my nose with his fingertips, tracing my eyebrows and earlobes before finally lightly running his fingers over my lips.

I could hear his heart slamming in his chest and wondered how I was possibly going to deflect this when I was, quite literally, saved by my doorbell.

Eating gave me the excuse to sit up and away from him, and after I was done I just maintained my position on the opposite side of the couch. Before long, the combination of delicious carbohydrates, exhaustion, and Judge Judy managed to lull me into a peaceful slumber sitting up.

It barely registered when Randy picked me up and carried me into my bedroom. The only thing woke me was being placed between cool sheets – the change in temperature made my eyes fly open immediately.

"You're all right," he assured me, bringing the blankets up to my chin. "You didn't look too comfortable on the couch." He sat beside me, his hand smoothing over my forehead before sliding down to take one of my hands in his. "Sleep well," he said quietly, taking my hand to bring to his mouth and lightly pressing his lips against it.

I managed a smile. "Thank you."

I waited expectantly, wondering why he wasn't leaving. He shrugged in response to my questioning eyes. "I just want to make sure you fall asleep all right."

"I will. It will be hard for me if you're here staring at me."

He squeezed my hand. "Got it." He stood up and moved to the other side of the bed, pulling off his t-shirt as he went. I heard him unbuckle his belt and the whispering sound of moving fabric before a light thump told me that his jeans had joined his shirt on the floor.

"Uhh...this isn't really..."I said meekly as he climbed into the bed behind me, wrapping an arm tightly around me.

"Just until you fall asleep," he replied, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Please. Just give me one last night of watching you drift off."

It felt awkward, but I supposed I owed him that much. I nestled myself into him, allowing him to wrap me up tighter.

"I'm going to miss this so much," he said quietly, running the fingers of his free hands through my hair. "I'm going to miss _you_ so much." His lips pressed against the side of my head. "Cass...are you sure that things can't be any different? I don't have to live here," he hastily assured me. "Not yet. But I don't want to lose you. Can we maybe try dating?"

I slowly shook my head. "I really don't think we can."

He sighed and the arm around me suddenly stiffened. "Why are you being such a bitch about this?" I went to answer him, but he cut me off. "You're really a piece of work, you know that? Sitting here and leading me on, letting me think I have a chance in hell to make this work. You never had any intentions of having an adult conversation about this."

"I didn't want you here tonight," I reminded him. "You bulled your way in."

"After I saved your ass from going to jail. For the second time since I've known you. The least you could do is show me a little fucking gratitude."

"By blindly agreeing to date you again after you hit me? That's not gratitude; that's suicide."

"I'm so glad you equate being with me with death," he said dryly. "That's really fucking healthy."

I took a minute to compose myself. "This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. We're not ready to have this kind of conversation. I think you know that." I rolled over to face him. "Can we please try this again in a few weeks, when we're both a bit more rational?"

I could tell by the hard set of his jaw that it wasn't going to happen that way.

He wrapped his arm around me again, pulling my body into his. "Cassidy," he said in a low voice, "let me explain something to you, darling." He took his free hand under my chin and brought my face up so that our eyes met. "You're still mine. I've let you have this little...illusion...for the past couple days, but it's time for it to be over now. We're not done until _I_ say we're done."

He kissed me roughly, one hand gripping me by the hair. "And we're not done, honey," he murmured in my ear as he pulled away. "Not by a long shot." His fingers trailed lightly over my breast, and I shuddered away from him.

"No," he said sternly, pulling me back to him. "Don't make me mark up that pretty face again; I hated doing that."

"Please," I whispered, closing my eyes. "Please don't do this."

He took my hand and lightly kissed the fingertips. "After every fight, honey, there needs to be a time when couples make up. Reaffirm their love for one another. That's what we're going to do tonight." He slid my hand down his chest, pausing at the waistband of his boxers.

I tried to pull my hand away, but he gripped my wrist tightly. "Be a good girl," he warned me quietly. "Be a good girl and I won't have to hurt you. I might even eat out that sweet pussy of yours if you behave for me."

He shoved my hand inside his boxers, manipulating my fingers to wrap my hand around him. "You know what to do, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing his lips into my hair. I froze for a second and was only spurred into action when he reached over and squeezed my nipple through my shirt. After that, I began stroking him almost automatically. I moved in the way I knew he liked, long slow strokes with occasional gentle teasing of his head by my thumb. I brought my other hand around to lightly tease his balls and was rewarded with a happy sigh as his hips pumped against me.

"See, Cass?" He murmured. "It's not so bad, is it?" He pressed his lips against my forehead, his hand beginning to gently tug at my shirt. "Why don't you get undressed, baby? Then I can be just as nice to you as you're being to me."

I sat up and pulled my shirt and pajama bottoms off, hesitating at my panties. I convinced myself that if I just moved, if I just didn't argue, everything would be all right. Everything was going to be ok, as long as I didn't do anything stupid right now. I'd deal with the consequences later; the important thing was making it out of this without any physical damage.

So I hooked my fingers in my waistband and tossed my panties on the floor, avoiding Randy's eyes – even though I could see the almost-feral grin smeared on his lips. "I have an idea," he murmured, squirming out of his own boxers. "Come on up and straddle my face. I want to be drowning in your fucking pussy when you come for me."

I did what he asked, unsurprised when he guided my head down to his crotch to reciprocate. He waited to start until I took him in my mouth, moaning softly before he plunged his tongue inside of me. I went on complete auto-pilot, again just doing what I knew he liked while he writhed under me with increasing intensity, the speed and pressure of his mouth on me increasing the closer I brought him to an orgasm.

He finally pulled away briefly, groaning my name while he pumped his hips and thrust deep into my mouth. I tasted him briefly; that hot, salty mess hitting the back of my throat before it was mercifully gone. Dutifully, knowing what he liked, I kept my mouth on him and lightly traced my lips up and down, sucking gently, rewarded as he shuddered violently against me.

"Goddamn, woman," he murmured before returning his attention to me, his tongue working furiously.

I doubted that I'd be able to have an orgasm. So I did something I'd never done before tonight – I faked it. I allowed him to think I built up, moaning quietly here and there, wriggling my hips to get his tongue in a 'better' position, occasionally squeezing so he would think I was spasming – before I 'came' for him, sitting up and riding his face like I knew he liked before letting my body go limp.

I could feel his stomach ripple as he chuckled beneath me. "See, sweetheart?" He murmured, placing one last closed-mouth kiss on me, causing a very real tremor throughout my body. "Making up can be very sweet."


	34. Chapter 34

In spite of the obvious horror of my situation, I fell asleep immediately.

I think I was just overwhelmed by everything and, being already exhausted, my body went and forced a shut-down of my brain. It helped, but not as much as I would have liked. When my alarm went off that next morning, I still felt like I was walking around in a fog.

Randy watched me quietly, sipping a cup of coffee and allowing his eyes to follow me around the room. As I was getting ready to leave, he pulled my keys out of his pocket and held them out to me.

"After you fell asleep last night, I went and made myself copies of your new keys. I figured I'd save you the trip." I stared at him unhappily before reaching out to take them. "Don't, Cass," he said quietly, holding my wrist for a moment. "Let's not do this again, all right?"

I yanked my hand away from him. "I need to go to work."

"Go on," he replied, clearly displeased. "I'll lock up," he added with a smirk.

I agonized over this situation all day. What could I do? Keep changing my locks until I realized that allowing Randy in my home was a terrible idea? At the end of the day, increasingly frustrated, I realized I only had two options – I could either be firm and tell him, without any question, that our relationship was over and he needed to leave me alone...or I could leave town.

The stubborn part of me rebelled against the idea of running. I'd settled here for a reason; I had made it my home in the worst time of my life and I refused to leave just because some asshole couldn't figure out that no did, indeed, mean no.

That left the unpleasant choice of telling him that we were through. He wouldn't like it. He might hurt me again. I was prepared for both of those scenarios when he walked through my door that night as if he still lived there.

I held my hand out, and he raised an eyebrow at me. "We're not even dating again for twenty-four hours and you want my wallet?" He shrugged, digging it out of his back pocket.

"No. Give me my keys, Randy."

He rolled his eyes. "This again, huh?"

"I wasn't in my right mind last night, and I let my sympathy for you run away with me. We _are_ done. Now act like an adult and end it cleanly."

He stared at me for a moment, pursing his lips while he turned everything over in his head.

"You know what? Fuck it." He reached in his pocket and handed me the set of keys. "I'm sick of trying to convince you to do the right thing. It's your own life to fuck up. I just hope you realize that when you finally understand what a huge mistake you made, I might not be around to ride off into the sunset with you."

I bit back my snarky reply. "I know that," I answered calmly. "I'll just have to take my chances."

He paused for a minute, shaking his head. "You're fucking unbelievable, you know that?"

"You've informed me of that many times. We don't have anything further to say to one another, Randy, and I think it's best that you leave."

I was terrified for a moment, thinking he'd snap into the mode he'd been in the previous night – telling me that it was over when _he_ said it was, and that I had no say. I wasn't sure how to handle it if he did that.

Mercifully, he just shook his head in disgust and walked to the door.

"You'll be sorry," he said, slamming the door behind him hard enough to break one of the panes of glass.

I waited for several minutes to make sure he was truly gone before I allowed myself to actually be afraid. I'd had to push all of that away in order to do what had to be done, and now that it was over I allowed myself to feel that fear.

I lied and told myself that it was over. Even then, I knew that it wasn't.

Randy left me alone for a few days, and my life went on even as I was in a holding pattern, waiting to see what his next move would be. I began to see him around town while I was running errands, always with a brunette who was quite obviously a lot younger than I was and liked to wear a lot less clothing. He made it a point to be incredibly affectionate with her whenever I was in the vicinity, and she was obviously smitten with him.

I did my best to ignore it, hoping that this meant that he would eventually settle into something with someone else and leave me the hell alone.

When it became obvious that I wasn't going to fly off the handle in a jealous rage, I started getting pulled over.

It wasn't Randy at first. It was mostly Seth and Roman, who were incredibly friendly but still stern with me. They let me off with a few warnings before starting to write tickets, even going so far as to tell me to check my speedometer – I was obviously speeding by their radar, they told me, even as my car told me I was doing five under.

I tried to take it with good grace and stopped driving unless it was absolutely necessary. Seth and Roman wouldn't intentionally pull me over as part of Randy's sick game. They were good guys. If it had been Dean, I might have been more inclined to be suspicious.

When I didn't become belligerent or abusive towards Seth or Roman, everything stopped for a few days. The next time I was pulled over, it was Randy.

"Well hey there Cass," he greeted me with false cheeriness as he stepped up to my window. "How are you doing?"

I smiled at him sweetly. "I'm great, Officer. Yourself?"

"Just fine," he replied, grinning right back. "Know why I pulled you over?"

"Haven't a clue," I answered honestly.

"Didn't see you use your turn signal back at the stop sign there. I hear you've been driving pretty recklessly lately. Can you afford another ticket?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

He chuckled. "I'd let you work it off, if you wanted." He reached down and lightly trailed his fingers over my arm.

"How would your new lady feel about that?"

He let out a full-on belly laugh. "Jealous?"

"Not one bit."

"She's an ok kid. The things she does to me in bed..." He trailed off for effect, shaking his head. "I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep since we started fucking." He squat down beside my car. "That's all it is, you know. I'm just fucking her."

I shrugged. "It's not any of my business."

"Yes, it is. I lied to you, Cass. I lied when I said I wouldn't be waiting for you. I will be. I can't help myself. It's a sickness, loving you." He reached in and trailed his fingers over my face. "I'll love you for the rest of life, whether I consciously decide to or not."

I was quiet for a few minutes. "Are you going to write me a ticket?" I finally asked, keeping my eyes trained straight ahead.

"Do you want to suck my dick to get out of it?"

I turned to regard him curiously. "If you have this young girl who does amazing things to you in bed, why do you want a blowjob from me?"

"Maybe I don't. Maybe I just wanted to see how willing you'd be if the opportunity arose." He paused and tipped his hat at me mockingly. "Drive safe, now."

Without a word, he walked back to his cruiser and waited, watching me until I pulled away. He trailed me home, driving slowly past as I got out of the car and practically bolted into the house.

I realized that night that what I'd thought was over was simply twisting and turning into something far worse than our failed relationship.


	35. Chapter 35

I stayed awake for a long time that night.

It had become abundantly clear that this situation – which I had hoped would simply blow over when Randy saw that I truly was disinterested in continuing a relationship with him – was not going to go away on its own.

For the first time, I seriously considered leaving my little town. I didn't have any ties here any longer; Kara and I hadn't spoken in ages. My job would likely grant me some kind of transfer, and if not I could find something wherever I decided to settle. The house...well...that might take a little time to sell, but I didn't have to stay here for that.

I hated the idea of running, but it seemed more intelligent the more I thought about it.

I briefly wondered if there was anyone I could talk to about the harassment I was facing from the police department. I shuddered at that thought, because up until now I'd refused to acknowledge it for what it was. I didn't think a single lawyer in town – of which there were a grand total of five – would accept this kind of a case. I didn't have any real proof, just a few speeding tickets.

It hit me suddenly that I could go and try to speak with Hunter.

Hunter was the Chief of Police, and the family friend of Randy's who had given him the job here after his stint in upstate New York. I'd met him a few times. He seemed like a no-nonsense kind of guy, and he might actually listen and consider what I was saying without automatically dismissing me as a lunatic.

It wasn't the best idea, but it was worth a shot. It wasn't going to keep me from leaving town, but it just might curb the harassment until I could get out.

I figured I'd table the idea until the morning when I'd gotten some sleep. It seemed like a good idea now, but I was exhausted, desperate, and afraid – in the light of morning it might seem different. If it didn't, I could call during the day and set up an appointment with him after I got out of work – Randy would be out patrolling, so he wouldn't necessarily see me talking to his boss. Even if he did, he was going to end up knowing about it sooner or later.

I didn't necessarily feel any better about all of this, but at least I was feeling less helpless. I tossed and turned for a long time, unable to push over the edge into sleep. When I finally did, I was awoken by my phone ringing on my nightstand. I didn't recognize the number and I was hesitant about answering...but I did it anyway, worried that there was some kind of legitimate emergency necessitating a call at two in the morning.

I should have known better.

"Hey there, pretty lady. Just wanted to make sure you made it home safe."

The words hung awkwardly in the air for a few moments. "Just fine, Officer Orton. Goodnight."

"Don't hang up, Cass." It was then that I caught the slightest hint of a slur in his words.

I huffed impatiently. "What?"

He was quiet for a minute. "What're you doing?"

"Trying to sleep. I have work in the morning. What's so important that you had to call me this late?"

"I just wanted my voice to be the last one you heard before you went to sleep."

I rolled my eyes. "Mission accomplished. I'm going to go back to sleep now. You should do the same."

"Nah. I have...things...to attend to."

"I hope driving isn't one of them," I replied dryly. "Sounds like you had a little too much to drink."

"I had a few," he said defensively. "Shelley wanted me to go out to the bar with her and her girlfriends." He paused. "I'm getting too old for all this kid shit."

"I don't know why you're telling me all this."

He laughed. "Would you believe it's because I'm sick of conversing with a twenty-two-year-old who can't hold her liquor and keeps insisting that she loves me because I'm a great lay?"

"That's not my problem. If you're unhappy, leave. If you like what she does to your dick, stay. I don't care either way."

"You really don't, do you?"

"No."

He fell silent for a long time, and I found myself betting that he'd passed out on the phone. "Is there any scrap of positive emotion left for me in that aching void you call your heart?"

Well damn. I'd lost my bet with myself. "Not the best way to phrase that question if you expect an actual answer." I paused. "I've had enough of this, Randy. You're drunk. I'm tired. Let's end this conversation now."

"Promise me that we'll continue it sometime over dinner."

I laughed bitterly. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you. I'll never have my wits about me when you're involved. I'll always keep trying, I'll always keep pushing to be with you again. I waited too long and worked too hard to give up that easily."

"That's nice. I'm going to bed now."

"Cass," he groaned. "Please, just stop this nonsense now. I really don't want to have to take it too far."

That piqued my interest. "Take _what_ too far?"

"Trying to make you jealous. It's driving me insane that you're not even the tiniest bit upset that I've moved on."

"Because it is abundantly clear that you haven't. Otherwise, you wouldn't be calling me drunk at two on a Tuesday morning." I paused. "Seriously, Randy. It's pathetic. Now will you please let me get some sleep?"

"Pathetic?"

The tone of his voice on that single word shot a bolt of fear straight down my spine.

"Pathetic," he repeated. "All right, Cassidy. You think I'm pathetic...just wait and see what I do to change your mind about that, beautiful." He paused. "Might as well just leave your doors unlocked, by the way. Think I only made one set of keys?"

He hung up on me, and in that instant I knew two important things.

First, I wasn't going to sleep any more tonight. It was a lost cause now.

Second, I would be making a trip to the police station tomorrow.


	36. Chapter 36

The room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence the moment I stopped speaking.

I felt like I was in the principal's office, trying to explain that I'd only hit back because the other kid had started it – and Hunter's piercing brown eyes studying me intently did nothing to diminish that feeling.

He leaned back in his chair and exhaled. "These are some pretty serious allegations."

I nodded. "I know."

"Do you have any kind of proof?"

I shook my head miserably, shrugging. "Only the inordinate amount of traffic stops."

He nodded. "OK, Cassidy. I'm going to be straight with you here. I check the footage from dash cams and radar guns regularly. I went back today and checked the dates we discussed over the phone before you got here. I didn't see or hear anything that would indicate unprofessional behavior from Officers Reigns and Rollins. I checked their radar guns again – calibrated regularly, and no other complaints on file about inaccuracies. Have you gone and had your speedometer checked like they suggested?"

"I did. My mechanic couldn't find anything wrong."

"Can I suggest taking it to another mechanic, then? One gun malfunctioning, I'd understand – but this was two separate ones."

I fell silent. This wasn't going like I'd hoped.

"Listen," he continued, "I'm going to address the elephant in the room. It's no secret that you and Randy didn't part on the best of terms, and that he's taken the break-up very hard. He might be spinning a little bit in his personal life, but he's been an upstanding professional from day one, and continues to be one of my best officers. I just don't see the behavior that you're telling me exists."

"So you think I'm lying," I said flatly.

He shook his head. "I didn't say that. I think you're letting your personal issues with Randy lead you to believe that he has...some kind of vendetta against you. Even if he did, why are other officers stopping you and not him? Do you really think this vendetta extends throughout the entirety of my police department? Because if you do, I would be genuinely concerned for your mental health."

I looked away, suddenly unable to breathe. Randy had warned me, a long time ago – the fraternity of police officers was like a very tight-knit family. You hurt one of them, you hurt all of them...and they would make you pay for what you did. Apparently this attitude extended all the way to the top.

It became perfectly clear in that moment that leaving town – and leaving with no forwarding address – was my only option.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time," I said, standing. Hunter stood as well. "Thank you for speaking with me. I'll be sure to get my speedometer checked."

Before he could say anything else, I left his office abruptly, fighting to hold back tears. My luck dictated that I nearly run into Randy and Ambrose as they were bringing in a guy with a busted nose – bar fight was my guess. They both eyed me suspiciously, and as I walked out I heard Hunter call Randy's name. I turned back briefly to see him gesture for Randy to come into his office.

I elected to try to make it home before that particular conversation was over. Otherwise, I was sure that I would be in a world of hurt.

I allowed myself a good fifteen minutes of being pissed off. Talking to Hunter had done nothing – except put me in _more_ danger. I had to leave. I didn't have any other choice.

I started making a list – get a realtor, get packed, ask about a transfer...figure out where the hell I was going now. It was all a little overwhelming, and it wasn't helped by the fact that my phone started buzzing in my pocket.

I didn't answer it. I wasn't that stupid. But I did listen to the voicemail he left -

"Cassidy, what the fuck? I just got pulled into the office and dressed down for _harassing_ you? Are you serious? I've told you once, and I'll tell you again – you ended things, and now you need to leave me alone to live my own life. Stop trying to turn this around on me and _move on_ already. This is sick, and you need help."

My mouth fell open. There was no way. There was no way he was trying to turn this around on me. I wanted to call him back and give him the tongue-lashing of a lifetime, but I knew that it would only reflect badly on me.

So I did what might have been the least constructive thing possible – I went to my fridge and opened a beer. Then another. And then another. It hit me after about twenty minutes, and I was warm and fuzzy enough that I thought sleep might be possible. I left my phone in the living room and went to pass out in bed.

I actually slept. It was...blissful, honestly. It had been a long time since I'd gone a whole night without waking in fear, wondering if Randy was waiting outside my door. Sometimes I woke up thinking he was in the bed beside me, his arms wrapped around me – but there was never anybody there when I woke up.

I shuffled out into the kitchen to make coffee and stopped dead, staring with my mouth open.

The room was perfectly intact, peaceful even – but sometime in the night, a large, vibrant bouquet of flowers had been placed on my kitchen table.

Shaking, I crossed the kitchen and searched for a card of some kind...but there was nothing there. I rushed to the living room and checked my phone – no messages, no missed calls, nothing. He was going to be careful from here on out. I guessed that even if I had the police come out and look around, they wouldn't find anything – not even fingerprints. He wasn't that stupid.

I'd thought that maybe he'd been bluffing when he said he still had keys. I guess I was wrong.

Included in my preparation for work, I threw together an overnight bag. There was no way in hell I was staying here again tonight. I'd go check into a hotel somewhere – a place with surveillance cameras and records of people entering and leaving rooms. It wasn't an ideal solution, but as a temporary one it made me feel a lot safer.

Unfortunately, I wouldn't ever make it there.


	37. Chapter 37

My day was pretty standard, oddly enough. I talked to Billy about a possible transfer, preferably out of state, and he promised to look into it for me.

"Cass...are you all right? You haven't been yourself lately, and now this – it's a pretty sudden decision."

I smiled at him. "Yeah," I lied. "I'm ok, Bill. I've been thinking about this for awhile now, and I'm finally ready to make the leap."

I think he knew that I was lying. At the end of the day, he gave me a hug and asked me to be careful. I assured him that I would be.

It was the last time we'd see each other.

I was driving to the hotel that night when the now-familiar sight of red and blue lights flooded into my car. I pulled over, cursing. I'd left work late and had elected to take a back road to get to the hotel, figuring that there wouldn't be any officers patrolling around here.

It was a mistake I'd end up really regretting.

"Any idea why I stopped you?" Randy barked beside my window. "Hmm?" He tilted his head, and I just stared at him. His nostrils flared as he went to the front of my car. He pulled out his nightstick and slammed it into my headlight, the shattered plastic and glass from the bulb flying up. I cried out, purely out of instinct.

"You have a headlight out," he said calmly.

"Randy, what the fuck..."

I glanced in my rearview mirror to see Dean step out of the passenger's side.

"Shut up, Ambrose. Get back in the car. This doesn't concern you."

"Orton –" he tried to protest, but he was cut off.

"I told you to shut up," Randy yelled, his face turning red and the cords on his neck standing out. "Get back in the motherfucking car and stay there until I tell you fucking otherwise – is that clear?" Dean stood his ground, and Randy took a step towards him. "Do I need to get a Sergeant out here? I'm ranking officer and you know it. So shut up and get back in the car. I'm going to have a chat with Cassidy."

"I'll be watching to make sure that's what happens," Ambrose replied. "Don't fuck around, man. I'm not like Seth and Roman. You don't scare me."

Still, he got back in the car. I questioned the veracity of that last statement, even though I understood his position.

"Now," Randy said, obviously trying to control the emotion in his voice, "I have a few questions for you. You answer them honestly and quickly, and away you go. You don't, and there's going to be a lot more trouble for you than a busted headlight. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. First – who in the hell do you think you are, running to my boss and making a complaint about me and my officers?"

"I was being harassed."

"It's called _patrolling_ pretty lady, not harassment. Maybe if you didn't drive like a fucking maniac you wouldn't have gotten stopped so often. Second," he continued before I had a chance to respond, "where the fuck are you going?"

"Taking a different route home," I lied.

"Bzzzzt. Wrong answer. Try again." I noticed that his hand had casually slid to the gun in the holster on his hip.

"A hotel," I replied.

"Why are you going to a hotel?"

"Because I received your flowers."

"Are you scared?"

I hesitated. No sense in lying. "Yes."

"Good." He hesitated a moment. "One little slip-up, but you generally did well. I'll tell you what. You go to your house and you wait for me there. You wait without making a fuss, you wait without calling anyone, you wait quietly and calmly and we'll talk when I get there. We'll straighten all this out, make it so that we reach an understanding with one another." He leaned into my car. "I don't like you running to my boss anymore than you like me pulling you over. So let's strike a deal."

I finally met his eyes. "I don't believe you."

"You don't have much of a choice, Cassidy. Think you can stay in hotels forever? Avoid driving at all?" He shook his head. "Trust me, beautiful – this is the best chance you're going to get to live the rest of your life peacefully."

I stayed quiet, my brain and heart racing. "Let me make this easy for you," he snapped. "You go home and wait for me, or I _will_ find you. And if we have to play that particular little game of hide-and-seek, you won't have to worry about making any complaints against me for awhile. It'll be awful hard to do that through a broken jaw." He paused to let this sink in. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Will you be waiting for me at home?"

I closed my eyes. "Yes."

He nodded. "Smart lady. Now drive safe, sweetheart."

He turned and walked away, getting into the cruiser and driving off. Dean shot a curious glance at me as they drove by, but I didn't have it in me to try and indicate that I was all right.

I wasn't all right. I sat on the side of that road for a long time, shaking fiercely. I knew that tonight wasn't going to end happily for me. I knew I should have run right then and there, but while fear is the ultimate motivator, it can also be the ultimate deterrent.

In the end, I went home.


	38. Author's Note

I wanted to address a couple of things, and rather than addressing them through separate PMs -

First, a lot of the reviews have been saying that Cassidy should do this or that or the other thing. In the interest of full disclosure, I personally agree. If confronted with her situation in my life, I would handle it quite differently. HOWEVER - this is not real life, and there wouldn't be nearly as much of a story there for me to write if she simply up and took off. If you're expecting her to leave immediately, or keep reviewing telling me what she should do and expecting that to suddenly happen, I should tell you that you're going to be disappointed. I'm not going to change the plans for this story.

Second, there was one awesome review that wondered why Cass didn't show her marked up face to Hunter. It was a great point, and I was very concerned that I'd left a gaping plot hole! However, I read back through, and there was a span of several weeks between the first time Randy hit her and the meeting with Hunter - enough time for that mark to heal.

Third, I appreciate every single review and favorite. I'm astounded by how many people seem to enjoy this story, and the kind words I've received in reviews have blown me away. Thank all of you for taking the time to even read this story, much less reach out to me and tell me that you're enjoying it.

Fourth (and this is the one I expect to be skewered for), I will be away this week. I will try to update before I leave, but it may not happen. Thank you all for your patience and understanding.


	39. Chapter 39

Randy swept into the house, making a big show of putting his keys back in his pocket. "You left the door unlocked for me?"

I shrugged from my place on the stairs. "I knew you'd be here. Seemed silly to lock up."

He grinned, turning back to click the deadbolt into place. "You still manage to surprise me every now and again. I thought you'd be barricaded in here, ready to fight to the death." He turned back to me. "I'm glad you're not. I don't relish the thought of having to kill you."

I tried to ignore the implied threat behind those words. "I don't relish the thought of death," I replied hollowly. "Now what was it that you wanted to discuss?"

"Impatient as always, pretty lady. Let's go get comfortable – this is going to take a bit." He held out his hand and after a moment of hesitation I took it. There was no sense in being stand-offish. Not right now.

He settled me on the couch and went back into the kitchen, returning with a glass of wine for me and a bottle of beer for himself. I downed the wine in one gulp and put the glass on my coffee table. He raised an eyebrow.

"Nervous?" He asked, bringing his own bottle up to his lips and taking a sip."Don't be, honey. This is a negotiation."

"Then let's get on with it."

He shook his head. "There's a certain...finesse to these proceedings, Cassidy. You can't just rush in and expect things to go well. There's a little song-and-dance that we both have to perform."

I looked at him for a moment, desperately attempting to keep my fear and anger shoved down in my stomach. "In that case," I said slowly, reaching for my glass, "I'll need more wine."

He smiled and plucked the glass from my fingers, standing and retreating to the kitchen. I heard him uncork the bottle and pour me another glass before he returned, and still smiling, handed it to me. I took it and thanked him quietly, taking my time with this one. I wasn't sure what Randy had planned, but I was certain that being clear-headed was going to be a necessity on my part.

"So," he started, settling back in beside me. "How have you been?"

I nearly choked on my wine. He was seriously going to ask that? I'd been terrified, watching over my shoulder for him for the past several weeks. I recovered and tried to respond casually.

"Fine, I guess," I answered, shrugging. "Same old routine. How about you?"

He leaned back against the couch. "I'd like to tell you I've been all right, but that's a lie. I've had a really rough time lately."

I wasn't sure how to respond, and he knew that. "I miss you, Cass," he added. "Isn't that obvious to you?"

I felt my shoulders sink. Just for something to do, I took another sip of wine while I tried to formulate an answer. "Of course it is," I finally sighed. "You've made it perfectly clear. I'm just not sure what you want me to do about it."

He licked his lips. "I want you back."

I shook my head. "That's not going to happen."

He nodded. "I figured you'd say that. So here's where we start negotiating, pretty lady." He paused. "Give me three nights a week. Three nights to do whatever I'd like with you – take you out to dinner, hang out at the house, have sex... Three nights, and I can promise you that I'll fix the constant tickets."

I hesitated, unsure of what I was hearing. I studied him curiously for a moment. "Here's where you either accept or give me a counter-offer," he said helpfully.

"I'm considering my options," I answered. My mind raced. Three nights a week in order for the constant harassment to stop. It didn't sound like a terrible idea, except for one small sticking point...but I didn't want to let him know that right away. "Three nights is pretty substantial," I replied. "One night I could handle. Three...that's a little much."

He sighed. "One night just isn't good enough for me. The obvious answer is to settle on two."

I bit my lower lip, pretending to think. "I could accept two nights," I agreed. "If you can promise me that you'll leave me alone once I move."

That had the desired effect, as he choked on his beer. "Move?"

I nodded. "I asked for a transfer at work today. I'll be out of Ridgeville in a few weeks."

I saw the anger flash in his eyes, and for a moment I was afraid – but then his expression smoothed out. "If I have a limited time with you, then I want three nights. Three nights, and if you decide to leave – I won't follow."

I nodded. "I think we have a deal."

His lips flicked up briefly, and he offered me his hand. We shook solemnly, and I had to suppress a smile. The whole situation was just so absurd...but at the same time, I felt like a weight was lifted. If he was getting what he wanted from me, I wouldn't need to constantly look over my shoulder. This was a better situation than the one I had been in, and the best part was that it was only temporary. When I left, he would stay behind. I could start over.

I dropped his hand and picked up my glass of wine. "Finish that up," Randy instructed. I turned to look at him, mildly surprised. "We have to seal our bargain," he explained, grinning. "A handshake is nice, but it's not as...intimate...as I'd like."

My stomach turned, but I downed my wine quickly. I wanted to get this over with.

He led me up to the bedroom, undressing both of us slowly. He took his time, kissing me softly and sweetly. The wine had helped put a pleasant buzz into my head, a fogginess that helped me feel everything intently and shut off the troublesome thoughts and worries about what new hell I'd willingly walked into.

As a result, I responded incredibly well to his attention – and he responded just as fiercely, making love to me with a passion that hadn't existed between us for some time. He cradled me in his arms when we were done, dotting my face and neck with kisses before we both dropped off into sleep.

He was gone when I woke up, a note scrawled and left on my bedside table explaining that he'd gone to work. I stumbled my way into the shower, yawning widely and wondering if it had been some kind of bizarre dream.

I managed to convince myself that I was awake, and I groggily worked my way downstairs to put on a pot of coffee – I was going to need that extra boost today. Just as I was pouring my first cup, there was a tentative knock at my door.

Looking longingly down at my cup, I set it on the counter and reluctantly walked away, promising a quick return.

The sense of being in an incredibly bizarre dream wasn't going to go away, it would seem...because standing at my door, dressed in street clothes and somehow managing to appear both annoyed and confused, was none other than Dean Ambrose.


	40. Chapter 40

I was glad I wasn't drinking my coffee at that moment. I might have spit it out all over him.

"Hey, Cass," he said uncertainly. "I...uh...I just wanted to check in on you. After last night. Make sure that you were ok?"

I could feel the suspicious look on my face. "I'm fine, Dean."

He nodded. "Yeah, I can see that." He immediately started blushing. "I mean, I can see that you're not hurt." He sighed, shaking his head as if to refocus his thoughts. "I'm not going to pussyfoot around. That's not me. Randy was way out of line last night, and I..." He trailed off, shrugging. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I'm sorry I've let it get this far."

I felt a lump develop in my throat. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," he said in a low voice. "I was genuinely afraid that I'd find you severely injured this morning, or worse. How did you manage to escape _that_?"

I blinked a few times. All along, I'd just wanted someone to see...and it turns out, someone had. Not that it had done me any good, but if someone else noticed Randy's behavior, maybe I wasn't as crazy as I thought.

"We struck a deal," I answered, forcing myself to focus on the conversation at hand. I could think about the rest of it later.

He raised his eyebrows briefly before they fell back into a neutral position. "What kind of a deal?"

"That's between him and I," I replied. I wasn't sure what Dean was playing at, and as a result I wasn't going to reveal a ton of information to him. If he had been sent by Randy – which I was guessing was the case – I wanted to be very careful about how I handled this surprise visit.

Dean nodded slowly. "You know that no matter what deal you made, it's only temporary...right? You know that he won't be able to help himself. You're going to wind right back where you were before, only this time I don't think he'll let you go. I think he'd rather kill you than do that."

I studied him for a few minutes, unsure of what to say. His words resonated through me with frightening clarity. I knew that he was right; In fact, I'd probably known it all along – but I was choosing to ignore that feeling and instead hoped for a better resolution.

I shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to see."

He looked incredulous. "This isn't a game, Cass. This is your life. This is not a wait-and-see situation. This is a fucking run-for-cover and pray-he-doesn't-find-you situation." He paused for a moment. "He didn't send me here. In fact, I think he'd be pretty pissed off if he knew I swung by to see you. He doesn't like anyone else talking to you, you know."

I shook my head. "I can't know that you're telling me the truth."

"Do you really think I'd let him hurt you without saying anything?"

"Yes," I replied truthfully. "You said that you knew and you'd let it go on for far too long. If that's changed, why are you here this morning instead of last night, when I really could have used your help? Why didn't you come then and save me from making this stupid deal so I could maybe have some semblance of peace for the next few weeks? Why did you wait until now?"

The words flowed out of me without my conscious thought, and I could see the shame drawn deep on his face. "About what I thought," I continued before he could say anything. "I've handled this on my own for a long time now, Dean. I don't need a hero, and even if I did – you're not him."

I slammed the door in his face, shaking with anger and fear. I hoped I'd handled that situation correctly, otherwise the uneasy truce between Randy and I might come crashing down around my ears.

Those thoughts were erased within the next forty seconds, and I wouldn't have a chance to revisit them for a long while.

I was putting my shoes on when the phone call that would change everything rang through on my cell. I glanced at the screen and saw the number for work, and realized that I was already about ten minutes late. Cursing heartily, I picked up and attempted to sound apologetic and rushed – no real challenge, as I was certainly both.

The voice on the other end wasn't Billy's. Instead, when the unfamiliar voice said his name, I realized that the vice president of the company was calling me. I briefly thought that it was about my transfer, and then he said the words that changed everything.

"There's no need to rush down, although we do need you here in relatively short order." He paused. "I...I'm not sure how to tell you this, Cassidy, so I'll just say it – Bill was shot this morning in what we think was an attempted robbery. He didn't make it."


	41. Chapter 41

The next few hours were a jumbled blur in my head.

Thankfully, I wasn't allowed to get close to the building, which they were now calling a crime scene. I stared at the yellow tape hollowly, hoping that I'd wake up soon. I even closed my eyes and begged the alarm to go off now...but it didn't.

I could see Randy behind that yellow line, glancing back at me every so often with a deep expression of concern on his face. I couldn't be bothered to attempt to communicate with him. Everything in me was focused on breathing and trying my best to face the reality that Bill was dead.

Our regional VP, Nathan Ross, stood beside me as shocked and silent as I was. We made token attempts at conversation, but after we had expressed our disbelief for the fifth time we simply stopped trying. There was nothing that could possibly be said.

Detectives came and split us up eventually, asking questions about both our usual flow of operation and Bill's personal life. They came to the conclusion that it hadn't been personal; that it was a robbery gone wrong...and Bill was just the unlucky person the would-be thieves had encountered.

We were told that it would be a few days before we could open up again – and then there was the practical matter of taking care of the mess inside. Nathan pulled me aside and told me, not unkindly, to go home. He could handle the rest here, and he would call me with any updates.

I didn't know what else to do, and so I eventually agreed. Logically, I realized that it was useless for me to stand there, staring at the spot where my boss...where my _friend_...had died this morning; but a bigger part of me wanted to stay there and keep watch. I couldn't do anything else for him; I couldn't be there when he slipped from this world into the next – and I wanted to stay there to show him that I _did_ care, and that he wasn't alone.

Helpless, I made my way back to my car. Randy rushed to catch up to me, calling after me. I turned back to see him jogging towards me, ducking easily under the tape and traversing the ground in three long strides to pull me into a hug.

"I am so sorry," he murmured next to my forehead. "I've wanted to come and talk to you all day, but... How are you holding up?"

I didn't know how to answer that. "I'm..." I shrugged, staring up into his face wordlessly. I could feel my eyes filling with tears as I searched for a way to say that I was terrified, I was angry, and I was hurting.

He nodded, his eyes full of sympathy. "I know," he said, pulling me back into his arms. "Go home. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Bending down, he kissed me. I didn't even have the ability to react. I was completely numb, still trying to process the enormity of what had happened today, and Randy kissing me like he had a million times before now seemed inconsequential, at best.

I went home and paced, still not knowing what to do with myself. I tried to sit and watch TV, but the laugh tracks annoyed me. I tried to read, but I couldn't focus on the words for more than twenty seconds at a time.

I still hadn't cried. I wasn't sure why. I wanted to; I wanted to scream at the universe for allowing such a thing to happen...but I remained silent.

Randy arrived about an hour after I'd begun pacing, still dressed in his uniform. I was running through a gamut of emotions – shock, anger, fear, and ultimately grief. He walked in just as I finally started crying and took me into his arms, forcing me to be still.

I hit his chest lightly with an open hand, sobbing heartily. "I know," he repeated, wrapping his arms around me more tightly. "I know."

He bent and kissed me fiercely, winding his hands in my hair. "I love you, Cass," he murmured against my lips. "I love you so fucking much I can hardly stand it."

"Randy –" I tried to protest, wanting to tell him that this was not the time for declarations of love, but he cut me off by kissing me again.

"Don't," he murmured before bending to kiss my neck. "Just don't. Not today."

The only reason I could think of later was that I was just mad as hell. I'd watched them wheel away my only friend in town in a body bag after a senseless act of violence, and there was no way I was going to deal with his shit today.

I shoved him away angrily, and I caught him enough off-guard that he stumbled back a few steps. "Leave me alone," I snapped.

I could see his jaw set. "Cass," he said warningly.

"I don't give a fuck. I just don't give a fuck," I replied. "Leave me alone. Get away from me."

He shook his head. "Don't push me away, honey. Not now."

I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep breath. He took advantage of that by stepping closer to me, wrapping his arms tightly around me again – but it didn't feel at all friendly this time.

"Care to try again?" He asked, his lips close to my ear.

"No," I replied, attempting to squirm out of his grip. "Let go."

He ignored me and simply squeezed his arms, making it difficult for me to breathe. I focused on pulling as much air into my lungs as possible while he continued kissing my face and neck, his hands working their way up the back of my shirt to unhook my bra.

His arms loosened slightly and his touch became more of a caress. "Are we done now?" He asked gently, kissing my forehead. "Are we done fighting?"

"We are if you leave."

Well. Saying that was a mistake. He rolled his eyes, but before I could really process anything else he had picked me up, thrown me up over his shoulder, and was taking me upstairs.

"What the _fuck_?"

"Shut up," he replied evenly. "I gave you a chance to be nice, and you just wanted to be a stupid fucking bitch. You're done speaking now."

He dumped me on the bed, and I immediately tried to stand back up. He shoved me down, his eyes filled with warning. "Don't," he snapped, pointing a finger in my face. "You've already pissed me off enough for one day."

I stood up again, and this time he slapped me before shoving me back onto the bed. "Are you stupid enough to keep pushing my buttons?"

I stood up for the third time. It would turn out to be my last for the evening. He balled up his fist and punched me in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I doubled over, trying to catch my breath, and he threw me back onto the bed.

He flipped me onto my stomach, grumbling unhappily. It took me a minute to process what he was doing when he brought my hands together behind my back, but then I felt the metal against my wrists and heard the clicking as he tightened the handcuffs into place.

"Let me out of these!"

With an irritated sigh, he shoved my head into the pillow and held me there for a long while. When blackness began to creep into the edges of my vision, he let me up.

"Are you going to be good now?" He asked in a low voice. I faintly heard the sounds of his zipper being lowered as he spoke. "Are you going to stop arguing and let me show you how much I love you?"

I kicked my foot back at him, connecting with his stomach. I tried to make my way off of the bed, but he caught me by the ankle and pulled me back into position.

"Fine," he snapped. "You're going to be that way, fine. I'll just have to show you how stupid fucking cunts get treated."

He grabbed me by the hair. "You're going to be _begging_ me to stop by the time I'm done with you," he growled. "You're going to wish you'd just shut your stupid whore mouth and let me be nice."


	42. Chapter 42

He flipped me on my back and stared at me for a long time, simply studying me. I met his eyes, refusing to back down. He finally shook his head.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Just fuck me and get it over with," I snapped. "Fuck me and get out."

He raised a single eyebrow. "Don't give me attitude. I _wanted_ to make love to you, especially after the difficult day you've had." He reached out to stroke his hand through my hair. "Last chance, honey. You've made me ferociously mad, but I suppose I understand, given the circumstances. So now that you know I'm not playing, are you going to stop being stubborn?"

I closed my eyes and, embarrassingly, felt tears spill out onto my cheeks.

"Hey now," Randy said, his voice suddenly gentle as his thumbs wiped my cheeks. "Don't cry, pretty lady. Don't cry." He bent and kissed me lightly on the lips. "I just want to be with you," he murmured. "I just want to show you that I love you; I want you to know that if something were to happen to me tomorrow, you'd be my very last thought."

For some reason, this made me cry harder. I wasn't sure if it was fear or if I had the hope of something happening to him and ending this nightmare. He took it as a positive and kissed me over and over again, speaking to me softly until my sobbing had abated into sniffles.

I felt my shoulders slump. "I can't," I said. "Not right now. I just..." I shrugged, staring into his eyes and hoping that he could understand.

"Cass," he murmured, bending down to kiss me again. "Sweetheart. Can't you at least try for me?" His hand wrapped loosely around my throat, and a hot bolt of panic ran down my spine. "I'll be real nice, pretty lady. I promise."

I swung my terrified eyes to his, and he smiled. "You'd better answer me quick, now. Before I remember that I've had to...talk...to you about this a few times already."

"Please," I said, shaking my head.

He pursed his lips before sighing. "Really having a tough time following simple instructions today, aren't we Cassidy?" He reached onto his belt and pulled out his firearm, pointing it up at the ceiling with a loose handle on the grip. "Will this help you gain a few IQ points?"

I closed my eyes. Part of me wanted him to just shoot me and be done with this whole mess – but I had the horrific idea that he would want to play with me for awhile first.

"Now," he continued, clicking the safety off. "I'll give you two choices. You can either make love to me, or I can fuck you with this." He moved the gun a little closer to my face, ensuring that I saw it with horrifying clarity. "So you can either be a good girl and take care of your man, or I'll stick this in your cunt and pull the trigger until it goes fucking 'click.' Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I answered quietly, forcing myself not to cry.

"Very good. Which do you choose?"

He had lowered the gun and was lightly pressing it against my thigh, slowly inching it up my skirt towards my panties.

"You," I answered hastily. "I want you."

He inched the barrel up under the leg band of my panties. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I gasped as the cold metal brushed against my skin. "Yes, please."

After several agonizing moments, he clicked the safety back into place and slid it down my thigh, making a show of holstering it again before he removed his belt entirely and carefully put it on the floor.

He leaned down next to my ear. "Any time, pretty lady. I could do that at any time without batting a motherfucking eyelash. Do you believe me?" I nodded slowly, a few tears trickling down my cheeks. "Then will I be having any problems with you and your attitude?" I shook my head. "Good." He rolled me back on my stomach, and after a moment the cuffs loosened and were taken away.

"Be smart, Cass," he murmured in my ear, moving his body to cover mine. "Just stop fighting me, honey. We're supposed to be together." He slid a hand up my skirt and began rubbing me through my panties. "Can't you feel that when we touch? Can't you feel how natural it is between us? Stop fighting it, and life could be so good." He slipped his fingers inside and began stroking me more intently. "If you keep fighting it, I don't know how I'll react. I lose my head a little bit when things aren't right between us."

He began sliding my panties down my legs. I lifted my hips unconsciously to help him. "That's it, babe," he murmured before sliding down my body. "That's my beautiful, good girl."

I knew what he was going to do mere seconds before I felt the first touch of his tongue. I made a concerted effort not to pull away, realizing that he was on the brink of snapping at the first sign of my reluctance.

"How's that, honey?" He murmured, pulling away after a few minutes and replacing his tongue with his fingers. "Does that feel good?"

"Yeah," I answered, trying to sound breathless. I gently pushed my hips down on his hand, and he responded by stroking me harder.

"See?" He chuckled. "Just let me persuade you next time. It's much more fun that way."

I wriggled my hips and groaned, not wanting to respond to that statement. This wasn't fun for me. This was a matter of survival.

"Are you ready for me, beautiful?" He asked, rubbing the head of his cock through my lips. "I'm ready for you..."

"Yes," I moaned, pushing back towards him again. "Please."

He thrust completely inside of me with a low growl, immediately losing the facade of sweetness as he moved brutally.

"Rub your clit," he barked at me. "I want you to cum on my dick."

I moved my hand down mechanically, lightly playing with myself and groaning quietly in false pleasure, occasionally clenching my walls and hoping that it would be enough to push him over the edge quickly.

It wasn't my day. He stopped immediately and slapped my bottom hard, pulling out of me to turn me on my back. "I don't want you to fake it," he warned, thrusting inside of me again. "I can tell when you do that, especially when I'm inside of you. You're going to cum for me, pretty lady." He bent and kissed me roughly. "Or else."

I forced my brain into overdrive. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. "I didn't want to stop you," I answered in what I hoped was an appropriately embarrassed tone of voice. "You feel so good, and it'll get me close – but I was really hoping you'd lick me a little longer. That feels amazing."

He paused and stared down at me, hoping to gauge my sincerity. I could feel myself blushing, and to my immense relief he laughed after a minute. "All right," he said against my lips. "Tell me when you're right on the edge."

I promised I would and then forced my brain elsewhere as he kissed down my body, licking and sucking on my nipples before continuing down between my thighs. His tongue started lightly fluttering against my clit, and I automatically positioned my hips so he hit the spot that felt the best. I focused in on the sensations rather than the situation, allowing my physical body to take control even as my emotional self screamed in agony.

He started sucking on me after a long session of teasing tongue play, and I sat up gasping. "Now," I told him, and he wasted no time in positioning himself between my thighs and thrusting deep once more.

I had the orgasm he had been so insistent about, and immediately felt deeply ashamed and confused. These feelings lingered as he gasped and panted above me, ramming deep inside of me and filling me with his own orgasm.

It came down to the realization that I wasn't even in control of my own sexuality. I couldn't decide when I wanted to have an orgasm, or even who I wanted to have one with - he made the decisions, and I was forced to abide by his word. I thought I'd obtained some small measure of freedom, but here was the truth, staring me in the face - I was still Randy's.

"See?" He panted beside me interrupting my thoughts as he tried to catch his breath. "See how nice it is when you listen to me?"


	43. Chapter 43

We were quiet and still for a long time, my head on Randy's chest with his arm draped over my shoulder.

More than anything, I wanted to pull away from him – but I sensed that his agitation hadn't been soothed by sex, which was a rarity. I realized that in spite of the bitch of a day I'd had, I still needed to be on my absolute best behavior...and even that might not save me.

"This wasn't how I wanted today to go," he eventually announced in a thoughtful voice, stroking his thumb idly over my shoulder.

I glanced up at his face to see his jaw set, brow furrowed, and a faraway look in his eyes. I didn't want to ask. God help me, I just didn't want to know – but I knew how to play this game by now, and tonight I had finally realized that I was playing for my life.

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head and sighed before lightly patting my arm and sitting up. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me and his shoulders slumped, for a few minutes.

"Randy?" I said, gently touching his shoulder. "Talk to me. Please."

He reached up to cover his hand with mine. "Do you know what I want more than anything in this world?" He asked, turning his head back towards me so that his face was outlined in profile. "I want to be with you," he continued before I could even attempt to answer. "It's what I've wanted for years, and I'm pretty sure it's what I'll want for the rest of my life – whether I get it or not."

He finally turned back to face me, his brow still furrowed. "I don't like the things I do to you," he said frankly. "I don't like seeing you cry, or seeing that you're afraid of me. I just don't know how else I can get you to behave appropriately. I get so frustrated with you, and I lose my temper. You're the only person in the world I lose my temper with like this; I think it's because you're the only person in the world I love as much as I do."

I hung my head for a moment, completely unsure how to respond to this. He'd never admitted before that he knew I was afraid of him – at least not in a moment where he was calm. I realized that he did, indeed, have some realization that his behavior wasn't necessarily normal.

"So what do we do?" I asked, bringing my eyes back up to meet his. "I don't want to live like this."

He let out a huff through his nose, studying me sadly. "I don't either," he admitted. "Do you still love me at all?"

I swallowed around the lump that suddenly formed in my throat. "I haven't thought about it," I answered truthfully. "I've been trying to just get through each day the best I can."

"If you thought about it...?" He pressed, and I forced myself to meet his eyes again. I looked in them for the man that had fixed my broken taillight just for a chance to go out to lunch with me. I looked for the man that had made sure to tuck me into bed every night we were together with a kiss; the man who had held Amelia up on his shoulders and laughed at a backyard barbeque that seemed like a lifetime ago.

For the first time in a long time, I saw him there. I saw him and remembered the reason I'd kept hoping things could change, and that he was going to be different this time. The flowers, the adoration, the stupid inside jokes and shared smiles...I could see them all, buried beneath the worry.

"Yes," I admitted.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, and I realized he'd been holding his breath. After a split second, he took my face in his hands and kissed me intensely. "I love you so much," he murmured against my mouth. "I don't ever want to treat you that way again."

"I don't want that, either," I replied tiredly, resting my forehead against his.

"First thing tomorrow," he vowed, "I'm calling a counselor. We can both go in and start laying the groundwork for a healthy relationship. I'm not going to lose you again, Cass. I'm just not."

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Ok," I agreed quietly.

He kissed me over and over again, his mouth pressing insistently on mine until I pulled back gently. "I'm exhausted," I explained. My stomach rumbled unhappily. "And there's that."

He grinned. "All right, pretty lady. Lie down, try to doze off. I'll go get us something for dinner."

I did as I was told, and he pulled the covers up to my chin and lightly kissed my forehead. "I'll be back, sweetheart," he promised.

I rolled over and became blissfully unaware for the next twenty minutes of my life, coming to groggily as someone shook me.

"We have to get out of here," a low voice said urgently. "Come on."

I forced my eyes open and saw Dean standing beside my bed. I hastily threw the blankets up over my naked body, and he rolled his eyes. "Christ, woman," he snapped. "Now is not the time to worry about me seeing your tits. We've got to _move_."

"What are you talking about?"

"Randy will definitely be back to check on you before the night is out. He'll see my car here if we take too long."

"Slow down, Dean," I replied, still trying to get the words to pierce through my aching head. "Why are we leaving?"

He stared at me incredulously. "Do you think it was some kind of coincidence that your boss got shot the day after you told him you were looking for a transfer?"

That woke me up immediately. "It was an attempted robbery," I replied, confused. "The surveillance footage doesn't show anyone that looks a thing like Randy."

Dean nodded. "Here's the short version – Bill was shot from a distance with a sniper rifle. They're assuming a third gunman was stationed elsewhere, just in case there was a showdown with the police. I'm guessing that it _was _the police out there, positioned on a roof and waiting for the right moment to shoot their intended target. The robbery is just a cover-up."

"Interesting theory," Randy's deep voice said from the doorway. "Do you have any proof?"

I watched Dean's face turn white, and then bright red. "I don't need proof," he retorted, turning to face him with fists clenched. "I know you."

Randy pursed his lips, nodding. "And I know you, Dean. I know you a lot better than you realize." He glanced over at me. "Cass, honey – why don't you get dressed? Dean and I will be waiting downstairs for you. We can sit down and have a rational, adult discussion about all of this."

I glanced at Dean, who was still staring at Randy with a hard set to his jaw. "Are you going to tell her everything?" He asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

I looked between the two of them, getting increasingly frustrated and nervous. "Can one of you just please spit it out?"

Dean kept his gaze focused on Randy. "Are you going to tell her? Or should I?"

"Tell me what?"

The room lapsed into silence for several seconds. "Fine," Dean said, disgusted as he turned slightly towards me. "It was no coincidence that Officer Orton was the first on-scene the night your husband died," he explained. "He's been following you for a very long time."


	44. Chapter 44

All of the air flew out of the room, and we all remained in uncomfortable stasis for several seconds.

"What?" I eventually spit out when the tension had become too much.

"Don't," Randy warned, and I looked up to see him staring at Dean, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. I could tell that what Dean had said had rocked him fiercely, and it was obvious that he was taken off-guard by his words.

"How do you know this?" I asked, glancing up at Dean.

He blinked a few times, his eyes shooting to Randy every few moments to make sure he was still in his position by the door. "It's a long story," he finally said.

"Dean," Randy growled low in his throat.

I looked back and forth between the two of them, completely baffled. "Then I guess I'll need to put on pants," I replied, and both men looked at me, confused. "If it's a long story, I should probably be dressed to hear it."

"You're actually going to listen to this lunatic?" Randy snarled, still glaring at Dean.

I hesitated. "Give me a reason that I shouldn't."

He turned to look at me, incredulous, before turning back to Dean. "All right. Fine. I'll tell you what's going on – after he leaves. This is a private matter between the two of us."

Dean shook his head. "No. You've had close to two years to tell her the truth, and you haven't. I'm going to make sure you're honest this time."

I closed my eyes and let out a frustrated yell. "Will you both please stop being so vague and tell me what in the blue _fuck_ is going on?"

Dean glanced at me before shaking his head. "Saint Louis University."

"What about it?"

"Didn't Randy tell you that he's an alum, too? A year ahead of you. Criminal Justice major."

I turned my head slowly towards Randy, who refused to look at me. "Don't," he repeated, although there was a pleading note to his voice now. That told me all I needed to know – Dean was telling the truth.

"He had an offer to stay at SLU, full ride for his Masters' degree. Instead, he stayed and worked as a security guard on campus – and then he took off to upstate New York to attend the police academy a year after he graduated. Any guesses why he would have done that?"

I knew. Of course I knew. That would have been when Pete and I had moved to his hometown – a cute little city in upstate New York.

"Randy?" I asked uncertainly, turning towards him. "Can you please explain this?"

His lips parted slightly, and he was obviously at a loss for words. "Goddamnit," he finally snapped. "Goddamnit, Ambrose."

"Do you believe me now, Cass?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes on Randy. "He's sick, and he's dangerous, and you need to get the hell away from him as fast as you can."

"You love me," Randy reminded me flatly. "You told me that not even an hour ago."

My heart was slamming against my ribcage and my mouth felt dry. I had no idea how to comprehend this new information. Randy had been at SLU? I racked my brain, but that had been close to ten years ago now – I couldn't recall ever seeing him there.

"This is all a little crazy," I said, shaking my head. "I...I don't even know what to think."

"Don't think," Dean snapped, putting his hands on my shoulders and shaking me. "_Run_."

"Don't you touch her," Randy snarled, taking several steps towards him. "Don't you dare."

"Guys, no," I said, pulling away from Dean and clutching the sheet tighter around my chest. "Please. That's not going to help anything."

"It's going to help me feel better," Randy retorted.

"Oh I wish you would," Dean snapped. "I wish you'd fucking try."

"Please," I repeated desperately, seeing the futility of my words. This had been brewing for far too long, and it wasn't going to end well at all.

I saw Randy reaching behind his back and had a split second of horrifying clarity. "Dean, get out," I snapped angrily. Both men froze, and Dean looked down at me incredulously.

"What?"

"Get out," I repeated trying hard to keep the fear out of my voice. "Randy's right. This is a matter between him and I, and I would like to discuss it with him privately." I tried to urge him with my eyes to go, please, before things got very bad very quickly. He studied me for a second before understanding dawned in his eyes.

"Fine," he snapped. "You crazy bitch. You two deserve one another."

He stormed out, brushing Randy with his shoulder as he walked. It was a stupid move, but to my amazement Randy managed to keep his cool. We both waited until the door slammed downstairs, and then I heard the click that signified Randy had put the safety back on his gun.

I waited a moment before standing up and beginning to get dressed. "What did you get for dinner?" I asked, attempting to be completely natural even as my hands were shaking. "I'm starving."

He didn't answer right away, so I turned to look at him, tilting my head curiously. "Uh...sandwiches," he finally said, "from that little shop you like on Delanson street." He paused. "You're not angry?"

I shrugged, forcing myself to look down at the zipper on my jeans as I pulled it up. "We obviously have a lot to talk about. I want to hear your side of it before I make any sort of decision." I glanced up at him briefly before shrugging into a t-shirt. "What kind of sandwich did you get me?"

"That turkey bacon thing you like," he answered distractedly. "This is totally surreal. How can you talk about sandwiches with what Dean just told you?"

My stomach growled loudly. "That's how," I replied dryly. "It's just as easy to discuss this over dinner."

"Cass – "

"Stop arguing with me," I snapped. "I don't know if it's because today has been one clusterfuck after another or not, but I'm not running away from you screaming. I'm offering to sit and talk with you rationally, and you just keep fighting me. Stop. Let's handle this like adults for a change."

He closed his eyes and took several steps towards me, pulling me tightly into his arms. "I love you," he said simply.

I closed my eyes and tried to push the paralyzing fear I felt away from me. I was going to have to keep playing this game, and the stakes had just become incredibly high - as if they hadn't been high enough before.

"I love you, too," I lied.


	45. Chapter 45

"So," I said, pushing my empty plate away. "SLU."

Randy nodded. "SLU," he agreed. "Dean was telling you the truth. I did graduate from the university. I did know who you were before that night."

"How?"

"We had a class together." He smiled at me. "I was one of the guys who took women's studies as an elective. We thought it was a wank-off class, a chance to meet girls and get an easy A." He paused. "I thought you were cute. I watched you from the first day you walked in, and every time you spoke – you caught my attention. I dug how smart you were, and I tried to work up the courage to talk to you. Almost succeeded one night when I saw you out at the El Dorado. I was just coming up to offer you a drink when the drummer from the band that had been playing beat me to it."

I closed my eyes. "Pete."

"Pete," he confirmed.

"You were there the night that I met my husband."

"I was."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shook his head. "I knew how creepy it would sound. I knew that you wouldn't believe that nearly everything that happened after – moving to New York, being there when Pete died, moving to Ridgeville – well, I knew you wouldn't believe that it was coincidence if you heard this." He reached across the table and grabbed my hands in his. "But I promise, pretty lady – it is. I didn't orchestrate any of this. It's the universe's way of telling us that we need to be together."

I knew he was lying. I knew this was his way of trying to smooth over the new information I'd found out from Dean. I further knew that I was still in a hell of a lot of danger – he hadn't taken his gun out of his holster yet. It hung there by his back, simply waiting for me to say or do the wrong thing.

I was quiet for a long time, my stomach roiling. I had to be careful about how I handled this. If I agreed too readily, he would know something was up. But if I questioned him too much, he might get angry. It was a very thin line I was strolling down.

"Why did you wait a year after you graduated to move to New York?" I elected to ask, thinking it was a reasonable question and entirely certain that he'd have an answer for me.

"The girl I went with – her name was Alicia – she graduated the same year as you. I stuck around until she was done, and she was accepted at Skidmore for graduate school. So away we went."

After several minutes of obviously mulling the facts over, I slowly nodded. "I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yeah." I forced myself to look up at him. "It might have taken you awhile to tell me, but I understand why. You have a plausible explanation for everything. Besides," I continued, grabbing my can of Coke and taking a drink, "Dean obviously has some sort of weird issue surrounding me – he can't decide if he loves me, hates me, or wants to fuck me – and he was hoping that this would hurt both of us in some way. I'm not going to let it."

Randy tried – and failed – to pull back the brilliant smile on his face. I forced myself to smile back at him.

He laughed through his nose, shaking his head. "Christ. I should have just told you. I didn't expect you to take it so well."

I shook my head, shrugging. "Might have something to do with your timing. After the day I've had...something like a series of coincidences really doesn't seem all that important." I met his eyes. "Not when I've had such a harsh reminder of what really matters." I lightly squeezed his hand. "I'm going to do my best to remember the important things and forget the things that just don't make a damn bit of difference."

"Cass..."

"Let me finish, please." I could feel my eyes filling with tears. He didn't need to know that they were borne of fear and that I was praying I could pull off the best performance of my life. "All that matters is that you're here with me. That's all I need to know. You've been here any time I've needed you, and today...today I really fucking needed you. You didn't let me down. You never have." I squeezed his hand more forcefully this time. "Thank you."

"Baby," he murmured, shaking his head. I could see that his own eyes were glistening a bit. "Come here."

I went and crawled into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. Everything, miraculously, had the intended effect – before long he was lightly kissing me, tracing his fingers over my collarbone. I shifted in his lap, wriggling against him as I kissed him with a little more intensity.

He pulled back and grinned up at me, although the smile didn't reach his eyes. "What are you doing, pretty lady?"

I closed my eyes and lightly kissed him. "I want to end the day on a high note. I was stubborn earlier, and now that I see what you were saying...will you make love to me tonight? Please?"

His smile softened and he nodded, kissing me tenderly. He carried me up the stairs again, placing me gently on the bed before we made love for what I hoped would be the last time.

He really went all-out, making my body shake and quiver uncontrollably for what felt like hours before he ever moved inside of me. Even then, he tried to hold back as long as he could before having his own orgasm.

We both finally collapsed, exhausted. I glanced at the clock – it had been nearly two hours that we'd been in bed together. Randy pulled me to him and yanked the covers up over both of us, falling asleep minutes after he kissed me goodnight.

I waited half an hour before I stood up and crept into the bathroom, taking my phone with me. There was a single text message waiting, from Dean – it read, simply, 'Thanks.'

I typed back as quickly and quietly as I could. 'Thank you. You're right. Need to get out of here. He's asleep now. Any ideas?'

It took a few minutes for his reply. 'He's on day shift tomorrow. Will come over first thing in am. Expect me at 9. Be ready to go.'

I put the phone down with a grim sense of determination and slid back into bed. "Where'd you go?" Randy mumbled, pulling me back into his arms.

"Bathroom. It's ok. Go back to sleep." I leaned forward and kissed him lightly, relaxing when he smiled sleepily and began snoring again almost immediately.

I didn't sleep at all that night, fidgeting anxiously and praying for the sun to rise. Randy studied me over his cup of coffee at the table intently, but wisely didn't say anything. He kissed me goodbye and went off to work around seven, and I immediately flew into action.

I showered, dressed, and packed a small bag with clothes and the few sentimental items I had. Then I waited. It was agonizing, and every tick of the clock felt as if the seconds were hours apart.

The doorbell rang at quarter to nine, and I ran for the door, grateful that Dean was early...but it wasn't Dean.

Randy smiled at me harshly from my front step, a hard glint of anger filling his eyes. "Going somewhere?" He asked, nodding towards the suitcase behind me.

I froze. I didn't know what to do or how to possibly spin this. After seconds of silence, he nodded slowly. "All right, Cassidy. All right. You want to disappear?" He reached in and grabbed me by the neck, dragging me out the door. "I'm more than willing to make that happen."


	46. Chapter 46

"Randy," I breathed, and he tightened his grip.

"Just shut up, you _stupid_ fucking cunt," he snarled, pulling me towards his truck. He wrenched the passenger door open and shoved me inside, clicking my right wrist into a single cuff that was threaded through the arm rest before buckling me in.

He strode around to the driver's side and wasted no time backing out into the street and taking off.

I elected not to say anything. There was no way to explain this away – he knew. He knew somehow, and he was going to kill me for it.

He drove us a short way out of town before pulling over on the side of a rural road abruptly. Without saying anything, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"I know you're not a fan of too much technology," he said slowly, his thumb scrolling rapidly on the screen. "But I find that some of the new applications are really...useful." He glanced over at me. "For example, there's this one handy little gadget I installed on your phone for you. I bet you didn't even know it was there." He showed me his screen, and I stared, aghast, as I was looking at my own text messages on the screen.

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" He asked, staring at me. "I can see your text messages, your phone calls, even see where you are, thanks to the GPS." He looked away, licking his lips. "I hadn't looked at it in a few days. I was being genuine when I said I wanted to change for you. But something today," he shook his head, "something just felt off. I couldn't help myself."

I hung my head. There was no point in pretending any longer. "What are you going to do to me?" I asked.

He surprised me by laughing. "Look, Dean just texted you!" He said gleefully, shoving the phone in my face. 'Where are you?' I had a chance to read before he pulled it away. "That's hilarious. I wonder how long that dumb motherfucker looks for you."

I found myself staring at him, my lips quivering. "Don't look at me like that," he snapped, his jovial mood suddenly gone. "You made this bed for yourself, pretty lady. Just remember that."

He put the truck into gear and we were suddenly rocketing down the road again. We didn't drive very far before he turned into the long driveway of a relatively isolated house. He parked and shut the engine off, climbing out and coming around to open my door. He held me there with one hand while he unlocked the cuff off the door and fastened it around my other wrist behind my back.

He led me in through the front door, leading me back through a kitchen. He stopped me in front of a small windowless half-bathroom, and his hands worked suddenly to yank my pants down. "Step out," he instructed, and I followed his instructions blindly. I heard the click of his pocket knife and felt him carefully sliding it up my back to slice my shirt off; his movements precise and controlled as he then cut down each sleeve and pulled the remnants away from my body.

"This isn't the best solution," he said as he pushed me into the bathroom, "but I have to get back to work. I'll figure out a better place to keep you during the day, something a little more...comfortable." He looked at me. "You _will_ love me again, Cassidy. I don't care how long it takes and how many times I have to beat it into your thick skull. You and I are meant to be together. Stop fighting it."

He moved to shut the door. "Oh," he added, popping his head back in. "Don't scream. It's pointless; nobody will hear you and you'll just manage to piss me off." He pointed up in the corner of the room and I could see a small webcam mounted there. "Just for today. So behave, sweetheart – I'll be watching." He hesitated. "Have I made myself abundantly fucking clear?"

"Yes," I managed to whisper, trying to hold back tears.

"Are you going to try to do anything else completely fucking idiotic today?"

"No."

He nodded. "I guess we'll just see, won't we? I'll see you tonight, beautiful."

He slammed the door, and I heard him shove something – I imagined it was a chair – under the knob. I stood for a few minutes, frozen, listening as his footsteps retreated out through the house and his truck started back up.

Finally, after a few minutes, I sat down on the toilet and stared at the wall ahead of me blankly.

It was going to be another long day.


	47. Chapter 47

He didn't immediately let me out when he came home that night.

I could hear him moving around and making odd noises that I couldn't readily identify. I was restless and agitated after having been locked in the bathroom all day, but I knew better than to make a fuss. Instead, I paced quietly in an attempt to soothe my jangled nerves.

It didn't work.

I had a terrible sense of time in that room. It might have been hours or minutes before he finally came to let me out. When I heard the chair scraping against the floor, my heart immediately started pounding. I didn't know what to expect now.

Randy stuck his head in the door and studied me for a minute. "You did good," he finally said. "Come on out."

I walked into the kitchen uncertainly, stopping immediately when he put his hands on my shoulders. To my great surprise, he unlocked the cuffs and then handed me one of his shirts. I put it on gratefully, trying not to pull away when his hands slid over my hips to 'help' me put it on.

He bent and lightly pressed his lips against my neck. "I brought dinner home. Let's grab a few plates and settle in. We have a lot to talk about."

I followed his instructions without thought. I was in a very odd state of mind, knowing that I'd been bested and knowing that at any moment he might snap and change his mind about keeping me here...about keeping me alive. I moved without thought, I obeyed without question.

I was finally exactly what he wanted me to be.

I barely ate, even though I hadn't eaten since last night. Randy eyed me sideways, and I forced myself to take a few more bites in spite of the sourness of my stomach. Finally, mercifully, he collected our plates and put them in the kitchen before returning to sit beside me on the couch.

"I had a lot of time to think today," he announced. "And I realized that you're not entirely to blame here. I played my part in making you want to run, and I'm sorry for that." He studied me for a minute, and I stared back as blandly as I could.

"A few practical things first – Dean came storming into the station looking for me today. He caused quite a scene before Rollins and Reigns subdued him. He's off the force, and pretty soon we'll get him out of town." He paused, watching me bite my lip. "I understand your need to run, Cass; really, I do now. But taking off with Dean Ambrose? You know, the guy that tried to rape you in your kitchen?" He shook his head. "I love you, but your decision-making skills leave something to be desired."

I looked down at my hands folded in my lap and tried hard to keep from crying. He was right; of course he was right. I'd been so stupid.

He put a comforting hand on my knee. "That's in the past, pretty lady. We're all about moving forward today." He reached over and lightly brushed my hair out of my face. "I took care of a few things for you. I e-mailed your VP from your account and told him that you were taking a few weeks away to clear your head. We're telling people around town that you've gone to visit family back in St. Louis. I'll check in on the house every few days and make sure it's all right."

I nodded slowly. "Thank you."

He leaned over and kissed me on the temple. "I'd do anything for you, beautiful. You know that." He paused for a moment. "Why did you try to run?"

I'd been dreading this question, and I mustered up enough courage to briefly meet his eyes. "It's all right," he assured me. "I'm not going to get angry. I just need to know."

I closed my eyes before answering. "I didn't believe you when you said everything was a coincidence."

He sighed and fell quiet for a few minutes before answering. "You had good reason to think that way. I never should have insulted your intelligence; I should have told you the truth from the start." He paused. "I fell in love with you at LSU. I fell completely, madly in love and I didn't have any choice but to try to pursue it." He took my hand in his. "You're the only person who has ever made me feel this way. I'll never be able to let you go, and I will follow you to the ends of the Earth if I have to."

"Pete?" I asked, barely able to formulate a question.

"I always hated the guy," he admitted. "He made you smile in a way that I'd never seen before – and since I'm being honest, in a way I haven't seen since. But I didn't interfere. You seemed happy and well-loved, and that was enough for me."

"You still followed us to New York."

"I still followed you to New York," he confirmed. "I didn't want to lose track of you. I'd see you around town sometimes, at the coffee shop or running through the park. Every time, I tried to convince myself to just say hello...but I couldn't do it."

"After?"

He nodded slowly. "After he died, I did everything I told you I'd done – visited you in the hospital, cheered you on at that marathon, kept a close eye on you until I saw the for-sale sign go up on your house. I knew your realtor, and she told me that you weren't sure where you wanted to go. I talked up Ridgeville and hoped for the best, and it seemed to work. She found your house and I moved out of my crummy apartment the week after you left."

I bit my lip. "Why did you wait so long to introduce yourself?"

He shrugged. "I needed it to be the right time. It was completely obvious that you weren't ready for anything. You seemed to like Kara, and so I found out who her husband was and befriended him. I used my good old Southern charm to make Kara realize what a great catch I was, and then I just had to wait until we were at the same place at the same time." He paused. "It took a lot longer than I expected," he admitted. "But the day I finally shook your hand, the day I could look into your eyes and smile...it was all worth it."

The room lapsed into silence. I truly was at a total loss for words, hearing that not only was this man in the background of my life for years – but that he had actually influenced the events of my life. He had played a masterful game of chess, moving all the pieces into the right places to get the board to be what he needed it to be.

"That's the truth of it," he said to break the silence. "Now you know how desperate I am for you."

"This...this is a lot," I admitted quietly. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he assured me. "I know that you'll need some time to reconcile this new knowledge. But I want to assure you, babe – I'm still me. I made sure that you got to know the real person, and not the person I thought you wanted."

I paused. "What happens now?"

This question obviously pleased him. "I'm so glad you want to move forward instead of looking back." He squeezed my hand gently. "You're going to stay here for a few weeks. It won't be like it was today. I'm working on a project to make it so that you have room to move and even some entertainment during the day. We're going to spend time together when I'm home and rebuild our relationship. Once you're officially 'back' in town, I'd still like us to start counseling." He leaned over and pressed his lips against my temple again. "When we're happy and able to communicate better, I'm going to do the only thing I've wanted to do for years – make you my wife and put a few babies in you. We're going to be a perfect, happy family."

He turned my head and gently kissed me, ignoring the tears of horror that had started to slide down my cheeks.


	48. Chapter 48

He held my hips tightly while he thrust up into me, soft groans of pleasure sliding out of his lips.

I was grateful that I wasn't facing him and was free to simply be as miserable as I felt. My body moved mechanically while my brain swirled around unhappily, attempting to process the enormity of everything he'd told me this evening.

"Cass," he gasped, squeezing his fingers into my flesh, "holy fuck."

I slammed my body down onto his, using my knees to rise and fall at a furious pace, and was rewarded when I watched his legs tense as he throbbed inside of me. His toes curled, and as he thrust up one last time I could feel him let go, his orgasm exploding inside of me.

"You are perfect," he said quietly as he collapsed back onto the bed, continuing to lightly press his hips up, his body occasionally shuddering.

I moved slowly, letting him pull every last drop of pleasure out of my body. I hadn't wanted sex, but I knew better than to refuse him. At least he hadn't insisted that I have an orgasm this time.

After a few more minutes, he gently guided me down onto the bed beside him. I kept my back to him, and for the second time that night I caught a break – he made no moves to turn me so that I faced him.

He held me for several moments before speaking, stroking a hand back through my hair. "I promise," he said in a low voice, "it'll get better. You'll want me like you used to." He tenderly pressed his lips against my temple.

I didn't want to say anything, but I also didn't want to ignore his statement entirely. I covered the hand wrapped around me with my own and squeezed, rewarded when he snuggled closer to me. We were quiet for a long time, and the soothing rhythm of his breath against my neck had nearly lulled me to sleep. I finally realized how exhausted I was, and for the first time I knew I'd be able to sleep. There wasn't anything to fear any longer. The worst had happened; Randy had caught me – and I was still breathing.

"Do you have anything you want to ask me?" He broke into my sleepy thoughts. "Curious about anything?"

My brain moved slowly before I was able to answer. "Where are we?"

He chuckled. "I'm surprised it took you this long to ask," he admitted. "We're in my house. I bought one of Hunter's rental properties after you and I split up. He's been kind enough to hold the mortgage for us. It's a big place – four bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, and a basement I'm working on finishing. You'll see that tomorrow. We're on about twenty-two acres, so plenty of room to spread out. It's going to be a great place to raise a family. That's mostly why I wanted it."

I wasn't sure what to say. "You really thought that through," I finally replied, trying hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I'd dumped the guy, and his response was to buy a house for our unborn children.

"I knew you'd love it," he replied simply. "It's perfect for us. I'll have to give you the grand tour tomorrow." He paused. "Anything else?"

I wasn't sure I actually wanted to ask this next question, but it came out of my mouth before I could consciously stop it. "Are you worried about Dean at all?"

"No." He pulled me closer to him. "One of the first improvements I made was a CCTV system so that I could see who was coming and going at any time. The second I made was a burglar alarm. If he tries to get in here, I'll be here in five minutes flat. And if he's an intruder on my property...well...I'm well within my rights to shoot him on-sight. I wouldn't hesitate a second if it means keeping you safe."

I realized then that he was trying to actually ease my mind, as odd as that sounds. He was answering every question I had calmly and honestly...so I decided to go for broke.

"How long do we stay like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"How long will I be...relegated to one part of the house?"

"That's going to depend. We need to see that we can trust each other. I need to see that you're not going to run, and you need to see that I won't lose my temper. It'll be a process, but I know that we'll get there." He paused. "Anything else you want to know, pretty lady?"

I opened my mouth to answer and yawned heartily. He laughed in response. "I guess not. Let's get ready for bed."

I furrowed my brow as he slid away from me. "Aren't we already ready for bed?"

I heard a clicking sound and became incredibly confused, but I didn't dare turn around. When Randy dropped his arm around me again, he took my wrist and clicked a handcuff around it. I glanced down to see that the other cuff was around his wrist. My jaw dropped.

"Comfortable?" He asked, nuzzling my neck with his nose. "Think you can sleep like this? First night and all...I just need to make sure."

I wanted to ask him if he was out of his fucking mind, but I had a better sense of self-preservation than that. "I'll be fine," I managed to spit out, trying to sound totally normal.

It must have worked. He clicked the light off before snuggling back into me. "So good to sleep next to you again," he murmured drowsily. "Night baby. Love you."


	49. Chapter 49

"Cass," a voice awoke me, shaking me urgently. The scent of Randy's soap hit my nose. "Come on, babe. I've got to go to work."

"Ok," I mumbled, rolling over and attempting to close my eyes again. I hadn't sleep this peacefully in what felt like years.

He chuckled behind me. "Honey, you can't stay here. Come on." He slid the blankets away from me, and after one last groan of protest I sat up, yawning. "I'll take a pillow and blanket down for you. Just bring yourself."

I stood up and turned around, wincing as my body protested against movement. Randy was smiling at me sympathetically as he picked up the pillow I'd been sleeping on and ripped the top blanket from the bed. "I know, cutie. Let's go get you settled and you can go back to sleep."

Yawning, I nodded. He offered his hand and I took it, allowing him to lead me down to the main level and then down again into the basement.

It wasn't a typical basement, but it sure was ugly. My sleepy eyes took in dark wood paneling and dark green carpet before Randy guided me to an old couch. I immediately collapsed and snuggled in, Randy's amused laughter following me.

"All right, sleepy head," he murmured, kneeling beside the couch and kissing me softly. "I hate to leave you, but duty calls. The TV works, so that should keep you entertained for today. Bathroom is back by where we came in. I'll be home around four, barring any major catastrophes, and I'll have a surprise for you."

I managed to force my lips up into a small smile. I didn't give a shit about anything he was saying; I wanted him to shut up so I could go back to sleep.

"I love you," he added to complete his statement.

"I love you too," I replied automatically. "Have a good day. Be safe."

I lost consciousness for a few hours.

When I woke up, the sun was streaming in uneven patterns through the dirty casement windows. I blinked a few times and tried to go back to sleep, but the realization that I was alone in the house caused me to sit up.

I looked around the room carefully – no exit to the outside, and the windows were way too small for me to attempt to squeeze through. When I went to investigate them anyway, I saw that there was no way to open them. I experimentally tapped on one of the panes – plexiglass. It would take more strength than what I had to shatter it.

I went up the stairs without much hope, and I was right to feel that way – deadbolt on the door that required a key. I halfheartedly tried to push it open and met resistance immediately.

So much for a grand escape. I trudged back down to the couch and sat, pulling my knees to my chest. Randy had left a couple of cans of coke, a sandwich in a baggie, and a box of my favorite crackers on the table. I smiled in spite of myself before cracking open one of the cans and downing it.

With nothing better to do, I turned on the TV.

I considered my situation for a few minutes while Judge Judy yelled at some hapless sap. If I kept fighting, he'd get angry and I'd be locked in this basement for the rest of my life. If I immediately played happy housewife, he'd be suspicious. He might be crazy and delusional, but stupid he was not. If I played reluctant-but-slowly-coming-around lover, however...he might leave me alone one day. He might decide that he trusted me. He might even let me have a measure of freedom again, and when he didn't expect it I could just go.

It meant doing a lot of things in the meantime that I certainly wouldn't like. It meant being someone I knew I could never be. It also meant pissing him off mightily when I did run, and having to worry about the consequences of that particular action.

But I didn't know what else to do. I had no better plan, and even if I could come up with one...

I faced the truth. I was terrified. I was terrified of making him angry, of refusing to go along with this life he'd envisioned for us. I didn't know what he would do to me, and I wanted to avoid it.

I hugged my legs a little tighter. I didn't like this one bit, but I didn't see any other way.

I watched the clock on the cable box tick towards four. I clicked through various channels of terrible daytime television, trying to imagine this as my life. I lay back down and tried to will myself to fall asleep to pass the hours a bit more quickly. I took a lap around the room, looking for anything else to occupy my time. I ate my sandwich.

Finally, at quarter to five, I heard footsteps on the stairs. I took a deep breath before turning and offering a small smile and wave to one pissed off looking police officer. "Hey," I said uncertainly.

"Hey," he replied, obviously trying to wrestle the anger out of his voice as he plopped down beside me.

"How was your day?"

"Not great." He put a hand on my knee and rested his head on the back of the couch. "How was yours?"

"All right." I nodded towards the table. "Thanks for the sandwich."

His lip curled up. "I told you today would be better."

"Yeah." I hesitated. "I'm sorry yours wasn't so great."

He gently squeezed my knee. "Nothing I can't handle, beautiful. Just a shitty day. Glad it's over." He opened his eyes and studied me for a moment before smiling. "Do you remember me saying I'd have a surprise for you?"

I tried to smile back. "Vaguely. I was a little tired."

"Understatement of the year," he teased. "Well I do. And it's upstairs waiting. Would you like to see it?"

I nodded, forcing my smile to grow a little on my face. He grinned. "I'll think about it. A kiss would go a long way towards influencing my decision."

I laughed quietly as I got to my knees and leaned over to gave him a sweet peck on the lips. He groaned as I pulled away and gently brought me back, kissing me again with more passion, his hands wandering down to grab my butt and pull me closer.

He retreated with a sigh, and I placed one last light kiss on his lips. He smiled before standing up and offering me his hand. "Come on, pretty lady. Your surprise awaits."

Trying not to show too much dread, I took his hand and we ascended the stairs.


	50. Chapter 50

"First things first," he said as we reached the top of the stairs and he pulled out a key to unlock the deadbolt. "Go on upstairs, shower, and change. I put clothes on the bed for you. Then I have a little...favor...to ask of you, and we'll get on with it."

He smiled at me, and I tried not to notice the agitation burning in his eyes. I obeyed as quickly as I could, descending the stairs uneasily once I had showered and dressed in the jeans and sweater he'd picked out for me; clothes I hadn't worn in a very long time.

"In the kitchen," Randy called as he heard me coming down.

I made my way back uncertainly, trying not to be afraid. In the kitchen, leaning against the counter in an obviously foul mood, was Dean Ambrose. Randy was doing his best to convey a calm and detached attitude, but I could see his fists clenched tightly by his sides and the way his right hand kept creeping towards his gun holster before backing away.

"Cass," Dean said, surprised, his eyes roaming over me. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I replied suspiciously, glancing at Randy. "Dean, what are you doing here?"

He glanced towards Randy uneasily. "I was worried after you didn't...after you weren't home the other morning. Officer Orton here came in spilling some bullshit that you'd taken off to St. Louis."

I suddenly realized what this was, and why Randy had been in such a bad mood when he came home. Dean was persisting on helping me. I immediately felt a surge of gratitude.

"Do you want to tell him the truth, Cass?" Randy asked, sounding bored. "He wouldn't leave me alone about it, and obviously his mind wouldn't be settled when I told him what was going on."

In that moment, I had two choices. I could have told Dean the truth, and we could have run – or at least tried to before Randy shot both of us. Or I could go along with Randy's story, leaving Dean the chance to live and myself the chance to fight another day.

Death or life. The choice seemed obvious.

"After Billy," I started slowly, "my head just wasn't in the right place. And after you went and told me about Randy being at LSU..." I trailed off, shrugging. "I lost my head a bit. Randy and I got into a big fight after you left and I decided that I was leaving. When he woke up in the morning, we talked it out and I realized I needed some time away from life for awhile. He offered to let me stay here, and to pass it around town that I was gone for a bit."

"Bullshit." Dean snapped. "If this is true, leave the room, Orton. Let me talk to her alone."

Randy snorted. "There is no way in hell I'm leaving you here alone with Cass." He reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. "She's been through enough. You wanted to see that she was ok. She is. She told you in her own words what happened. Now you can leave."

"No," Dean replied vehemently. "I know that this isn't right."

"Dean," I broke in, meeting his eyes. "I'm telling you the truth. I'm ok. Randy hasn't hurt me or kept me here against my will," I lied. "I want to be here. I need some time. I'm sorry that I left you hanging that morning, and I want to thank you for caring enough to check up on me. But please...drop it now. You know I'm ok."

I could sense Randy's eyes burning a hole into the side of my skull, but I kept my eyes trained on Dean. I needed him to believe this.

Finally, he nodded. "All right, Cass. But if you need anything...you call me, you got it?" He turned back to Randy. "Tell Seth and Roman to leave me alone now. I'll stop if you do."

Randy nodded. "I'll have them dial it back," he promised, reaching out his hand. Dean regarded it with obvious disgust for a moment before reaching out and shaking it.

He shot me one last look, and I was able to mouth a single word in his direction – 'help.' His eyes dawned with understanding and he stepped out the door quickly.

I turned back to Randy, who was watching Dean leave with obvious distrust. "Be right back," he muttered, disappearing briefly. I stood in the kitchen dumbly, hoping I'd done the right thing and hoping that Dean didn't try to make his rescue immediately. I knew that he was smart enough to realize that if I hadn't told him outright in front of Randy it meant that now was not the time...but I didn't trust his sense of ego to not get in the way of his intelligence.

"He left," Randy announced, his feet thumping down the stairs. "Now hopefully my bad days stop."

I smiled at him. "I'm sorry about him." I paused. "What was all that about Seth and Roman leaving him alone?"

He froze before shrugging. "The guys, uh..." He sighed. "You're not stupid, so I'm not going to lie to you. Seth and Roman...I pay them a little bit extra to do things for me. They could both use the money, and they don't ask questions. I asked them to make sure Dean left us alone. Dean wasn't having any of it."

I tried to take this information in stride, shrugging. "Ok." I forced a smile. "I hope he wasn't my surprise, because that would be a pretty terrible one."

The smile flew back onto his face. "No, that wasn't your surprise." He gestured to my outfit. "Do you recognize what you're wearing?"

I shook my head. "I know it's definitely mine, and I'm sure you had to dig through my closet to find it."

"Ah," he grinned wider. "Come with me to the living room."

I followed him, mildly amused when he set me on the couch. He started something in the DVD player, and I recognized the title screen that shot up. I began to feel uneasy.

"Any ideas now?" He asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"This is the movie we were watching the first night you kissed me," I replied numbly.

"You've got it, pretty lady. I thought a lot about the best way to do this, the most expedient way to make you remember what was so good about us. So I realized that the easiest thing to do was to show you what was so good." He bent over and kissed my temple. "You'll fall in love with me again. I just know it."


	51. Chapter 51

The rest of the night was quiet.

We chatted idly over dinner – actually, Randy chatted idly over dinner and I pretended to listen with interest. He seemed to relax more as the night went on, becoming more animated and laughing a little bit easier. Anyone looking in would have understood completely why I'd fallen in love with him. They'd never be able to understand the miasma of fear that surrounded me, not while Randy was his old self.

If only they could have seen the other side of him, his truly dark nature. They'd grow to understand fear just as well as I had.

"You're quiet," Randy broke into my thoughts, eyeing me unhappily above a forkful of food.

I gave him a weary smile. "Just a long, kind of crazy day." I shook my head. "I'm not totally sure how I'm feeling."

He put his fork down. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, obviously trying to keep his temper in check.

"No," I replied immediately. "No, I'm sorry. I want to enjoy our date night and spend time with you instead of in my own head."

I was lying, of course, but I didn't know when Dean might show up. He might decide that this whole batch of crazy was just too much and run. Randy might not let him breathe, having Seth and Roman dog him with every move he made. I needed to be prepared; I needed to lay the groundwork so that I could get out of this eventually. And if it meant doing a few things I didn't like in the meantime...well, that was a small price to pay for freedom.

"So why don't you, then?" I could tell that he meant his words to be light, but they came across harshly. Just one more reminder of the danger I was in.

I managed to smile at him and nodded, looking down at my plate and picking my fork back up. I forced a few bites down under his watchful eye before pausing to take a drink. I desperately searched for a topic of conversation and my mind could only focus on one thing.

"So...basement's pretty...interesting," I said carefully. There really wasn't much to talk about when you'd been locked in a basement with only daytime TV to keep you company.

He grinned around his hands. "Ugly as sin, you mean."

"I was trying to be tactful, but dear God yes." I was rewarded when he laughed. "What are you going to do to it?"

This started a whole conversation about the renovations he had planned. I accidentally slipped at one point and said that 'we' could do one thing or another to the room and watched his eyes light up.

He brought that up again as we were laying in bed, waiting to drift off. Randy had again cuffed us together, but I'd asked to sleep on my side with an arm wrapped around him this time. He'd obliged, mostly, resting flat on his back and allowing me to drape myself over him in what should have been a happy, contented tangle.

"You're coming around, aren't you?" He asked quietly, stroking his thumb down my shoulder. "You can see us here, together. You can see our family growing in this house." He put a hand on my stomach to punctuate his words, and I was nearly sick. "You have _no_ idea how happy I am about that."

I couldn't think of a way to respond. "I'm trying," was all I said, which was as close to the truth as I could get.

"I know you are," he replied, leaning over and kissing my forehead. We filled the next few minutes with pillow talk before he clicked the light out and we both tried to sleep. Randy took a little while, squirming in the bed for about twenty minutes before he finally drifted off. I took a bit longer, trying not to move too much and trying desperately to will myself to sleep. I didn't want to think tonight. I just wanted to be unconscious for several hours.

I dozed on and off, waking for good at ten of five. Randy's alarm was set to go off at six, so I was in for a long, brutal wait. I moved closer to him to try and relieve some of the pressure on the hand that was cuffed to him, unsurprised when he murmured in his sleep and pulled me even closer. I lay there for a long time, contemplating my dreary day ahead in that god-forsaken hole in the ground.

As I was brooding unhappily, an idea came to me. It was an idea that would both give me something to do and maybe – just maybe – leave me out of the basement for the day. I glanced up to make sure he was actually asleep before sliding under the covers, taking care to keep my arm up by his.

He was semi-hard already, coming up out of the deep stages of sleep. Closing my eyes and steeling myself, I bent and took him in my mouth.

I had only been doing it for about five minutes, listening to his sleepy, happy sighs, before he gasped and woke up completely. I could tell because he ripped the covers back, staring down at me with disbelief before he smiled and dropped his head back on the pillow.

He stroked a hand back through my hair, watching me intently as I slid my mouth up and down over him. "Cass," he moaned. "Baby, I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing that. Let me..." he interrupted himself with a groan as he reached further down and pinched one of my nipples through the t-shirt I was wearing.

"Honey," he moaned, gripping my hair tightly. "Stop stop stop. I want to make love to you."

I swirled my tongue around him, sucking more intensely. I wasn't above blowing him for a chance at freedom, but I did not want to be any more intimate than that – so I'd better finish this quickly.

I was rewarded when his protests ceased and he began gently thrusting up into my mouth, pushing my head down in time with the motion of his hips. I ran my tongue along him furiously, tasting the first drops of semen as they pushed out of the tip of his throbbing cock.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and forced myself to take him completely into my throat. He actually yelled, a string of curse words and pleas, and I could feel his cum running down my throat as his legs tensed and drummed beside me on the bed.

When I couldn't take it any longer, I slid up and off of him, gasping and trying not to gag before returning to suck the last drops of semen out of him while his body shuddered in delight.

"What," he panted as I moved back up the bed to rest beside him, "the hell was that all about?"

I shrugged. "I wanted you to have a better day today. I thought if it started out like that..."

He groaned and pulled me to him, kissing my forehead. "All that made me want to do is call in sick and spend the day showing you just how much I enjoyed that." His free hand slid down over my breasts, inching towards my panties.

I was saved when the alarm went off.

"Goddamnit," he snapped, moving his hand away to slap the snooze button. He looked at me with real reluctance. "I don't have time..."

I smiled at him. "It's ok. I didn't do that expecting reciprocation."

He grinned and kissed my forehead again. "Later," he promised, hugging me tightly before turning to get the keys and unlocking our hands.

I held my breath, waiting for him to relegate me to the basement, but he didn't. He showered and dressed and bent over to kiss me. I thought for a minute that I'd managed to convince him, but then he spoke.

"Come on, pretty lady. Let's get you settled in downstairs." He offered me his hand, and I tried my best not to look upset as I took it. All I'd gotten for my troubles was a stomach full of semen and the promise of a long session of sex that I didn't want.

Yay me.

I let him lead me to the stairs, turning reluctantly to give him a quick kiss goodbye. Just because the plan hadn't worked today didn't mean I should abandon it. I was certain I'd gained at least some small measure of his trust, and I needed to build on that.

He swatted me playfully on the butt. "I'll be home as soon as I can, darlin'. Behave yourself."

I assured him I would and made my way down the stairs, listening as the door shut and the deadbolt clicked behind me.

Another day in this place. It was only day three, technically, but it felt like a lifetime. I settled in, expecting to watch the hours tick by once again, never knowing that the burglar alarm that was going to start ringing at nine-fourteen that morning would change everything.


	52. Chapter 52

I jumped and immediately covered my ears over the shrieking, wailing noise that had just started throughout the house. My heart was pounding in my chest and my mouth had gone dry. Someone was in the house, I realized. Someone who probably didn't have good intentions. I began to look for a place to hide, until something stopped me.

"Cass!" I vaguely heard a familiar voice above the alarm. "Fuck. Cassidy!"

"Dean," I murmured, momentarily frozen before I leaped into action. "Dean!" I raced up the stairs. "Dean, I'm here!" I began pounding on the door, calling his name.

It felt like hours, but he finally came to the door. "Get back," he yelled over the alarm. "I'm going to kick it down."

I ran back down the stairs, listening to the thuds that hit the door with increasing force – but the door wouldn't budge. "Dean, you have to hurry!" I shrieked as loud as I could, tears coming to my eyes. The true danger of the situation had finally dawned on me. "He's on his way; you have to hurry!"

"Goddamnit!" He screamed, the frustration evident in his voice even over the wailing of the alarm. He rattled the doorknob unhappily. "It's not moving. Hang tight."

"HURRY!"

I paced nervously, wringing my hands for a minute before walking back up the stairs and pounding on the door. "What are you doing?!"

"Taking the hinges off. Give me five minutes."

"WE DON'T HAVE FIVE MINUTES."

"Shut up! Let me work! I can do it in less if you stop screeching at me!"

Still, my words seemed to have the desired effect – I heard one screw pop after another and had hope that it would all still work out. That was dashed right to hell when I heard a loud thud and a clattering sound. Moments later, the alarm stopped. The sudden silence seemed deafening and oppressive, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest knowing what that lack of sound meant. I backed down the stairs slowly, gripping the bannister tightly as the clunk of heavy footsteps came back towards me.

The house had gone so quiet that I could hear him pull the keys out of his pocket and put them in the lock.

"No," I whimpered, tears rolling freely down my cheeks. "No."

Randy wrenched the door open, a terrifying expression of pure rage on his face. He simply shook his head, nostrils flaring, before he slammed the door again and locked it. I heard him dragging something heavy – I presumed it was Dean – down the hallway and shortly after heard another door slam.

After a fashion, he came back and began re-fastening the partially-freed door hinge.

I decided, foolishly, to play it all off as best I could.

"Randy?" I asked uncertainly. "What's going on? Did you catch him?" He didn't answer. I rested my head against the door. "Why did the alarm go off?" I tried again.

Something slammed into the door inches from my head. "You lying fucking bitch," he growled, so low that I could barely hear him. "You numb fucking cunt. Don't you even fucking _try_ that bullshit with me, do you understand?"

I stepped back from the door as quietly as I could, retreating to the couch. I listened to his footsteps above me, pacing the length of the house, and pieces of murmured one-sided conversation. I even heard him chuckle at one point and realized that he was probably assuring everyone – the alarm company, the police – that all was well.

It wasn't.

The house fell silent, and I caught myself holding my breath. I pulled my knees up to my chest, rocking back and forth and trying to assure myself that he wasn't going to kill me.

When he unlocked the door again and slowly made his way down the stairs, I couldn't even bring myself to look back at him. I began shaking harder the closer his steps sounded, and when he put a hand on my shoulder I jumped.

"You're going to be sorry," he said softly close to my ear.

He stayed like that for a moment before standing up and walking away. He paused at the foot of the stairs, and I still couldn't find the necessary courage to look at him, much less try to talk my way out of this. After what felt like an eternity, he climbed the stairs again and locked the door.

When the sounds of his truck retreating down the driveway had finally faded away, the house returned to complete stillness.


	53. Chapter 53

Some time around noon, Dean started yelling.

I could hear him clearly through one of the air vents, and I raced towards it hopefully. "Dean!"

"Cass!" The relief was evident in his voice. "Where are you?"

His normal speaking voice sounded a little further away, but at least we could still converse. "I'm in the basement. Where are you?"

"Looks like a bathroom." He paused. "I could probably bust the door down and try to get you out again."

I shook my head, then remembered that he couldn't see me. "The house has motion sensors by every entrance. You're right by the door to the garage – you bust it down, the alarm goes off again."

"Well fuck," he replied, and I heard him slump to the floor. "Are you all right?"

I closed my eyes, trying not to think of how terrified I was. "I'm ok. What happened to you?"

"I think he hit me in the head. Hurts like a bitch, and I have a nice lump forming."

I paused. "Thank you," I finally spat out, trying hard to keep from crying. "Thank you for coming after me."

"Don't thank me," he replied dryly, "I failed miserably."

I shook my head vehemently. "At least I'm not alone now. At least someone knows where I am if...if anything happens."

"Don't talk like that. I'm going to get you out of here. _We_ are going to get out of here, do you understand me?"

"Yeah," I replied, my voice small.

We both fell quiet for a minute. "How pissed off is he?" Dean asked.

"It's bad," I admitted. "I've never seen him so angry, and that's saying something."

"All right," he replied, his voice as calm and rational as possible. I could tell that he was trying to keep me from panicking. I appreciated the thought, but it was too late for that. "Give me a little while to think on it, ok? I'll come up with something."

We sat there for a long time, Dean bouncing various ideas off of me, none of which were totally feasible.

"If only I had a fucking flamethrower," he said wistfully after a few hours. I couldn't help myself; I laughed. I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks, laughing long after the initial humor had died down. It was a hysterical, half-sobbing laughter.

"Cass," Dean said gently, when it became apparent that I was no longer simply amused. "Cass, you're ok."

"No, I'm not," I choked out, the laughter stopping and being replaced by full-fledged sobbing. "He's going to kill us. You realize that? We're going to die."

"We're not going to die. You need to keep it together. Keep your head about you, and we can get through this. You and me, ok? You're not alone any more."

He kept talking to me in a quiet, calm voice until my sniffling subsided. I took a firm grip on reality and slowly came back from the mental precipice I'd been standing on shakily.

"Can we talk about something else?" I asked. "Anything? Just something other than this."

He hesitated. "All right," he agreed. "What do you want to talk about?"

I paused. "I could turn on the TV," I suggested. "Turn it up loud enough that you could hear it. We could make fun of the pregnant teenagers on Maury."

I could hear him chuckle. "We could do that," he agreed.

And so that was how we spent our afternoon. It sounds stupid to say, but it made me feel better. I think it made Dean feel better, too. Just behaving as normally as we could – it seemed to fortify us a bit, push back the fear of what was going to happen in a few hours when Randy came home.

Except that he didn't.

It was ten o'clock when I finally dropped off into a fitful sleep, sitting upright in the chair I'd dragged over by the air vent. I went pleasantly unconscious for several hours, waking only when someone shook me roughly by the shoulder.

"Get up, Cassidy."

I reluctantly opened my eyes to see Randy standing in front of me, slightly unsteady on his feet. In his right hand was something I identified immediately as his self-proclaimed pride and joy – a Remington M24 sniper rifle.

"Randy?" I asked uncertainly.

"Stand up," he repeated. "Don't make me tell you again."

I stood. He nodded towards my clothes. "Get undressed." I hesitated for a brief second before his glowering eyes met mine, then I slowly complied, undressing down to my underwear. "Those too," he instructed.

He stared at me for a few moments when I was entirely naked in front of him. "I was saving this for our wedding night," he sighed, tossing me a familiar pink-striped bag. "Put it on."

With shaking hands, I opened the bag and pulled out a pure-white sheer lace babydoll nightgown. I quickly pulled it up over my head and slid it down my hips, unsurprised when it just barely covered the tops of my thighs.

Randy nodded towards the bag. "There's more."

I reached in and pulled out a tiny white g-string. Reluctantly, I slid it on under the nightgown. He nodded, pursing his lips. "Well. I'd fuck you senseless."

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. A gun and lingerie. This was not what I'd expected to happen this evening.

"I just paid you a compliment, Cassidy," he snapped, his voice hard.

"Th-thank you," I replied quietly.

"Turn around for me." I went to turn quickly, and he grabbed my arm. "No," he chastised. "Move slow, honey. Let me drink you in."

I didn't want to turn my back on him for any length of time, but thought that the fact that he hadn't shot me yet might be a good sign. I did as I was told, unsurprised and yet unhappy when he wrapped his arm around me from behind.

"You think you're so clever," he murmured, brushing my hair away from my neck and dotting my skin with surprisingly gentle kisses. I could feel his erection pressed tightly against my back. "You think that just because you blew me this morning, I'd let you roam free so you could escape with your little boyfriend up there. Tell me, pretty lady – do you really think I'm that fucking stupid?"

"I didn't know Dean was coming," I protested weakly.

"You lying fucking whore," he said in that same eerily calm voice, his hand beginning to lightly toy with my nipple. "You've been nothing but trouble for me from the very first day," he mused. "I've had to do things that I never in my life thought I would. I've given up...everything...for you. But you don't appreciate a single fucking thing I've done."

"I do appreciate what you've done," I replied.

"Shut up. I only have one use for your mouth now, and since you're not sucking my dick – keep it closed unless I ask you a direct fucking question." I nodded. "I'm losing track of why I'm here," he sighed. "You're just so damn...distracting." He pulled away from me. "Here's the gist of it, Cassidy. You want to be free of me so badly? Fine. I'll give you your chance."

I glanced over my shoulder at him suspiciously, and he smiled at me. "Doors are all unlocked. Alarm's off. You can go. But I'd suggest you start running, because in about five minutes I'm coming after you."

My eyes widened, and he laughed. "That's right, honey. I'm giving you what I didn't give Pete or Billy – I'm giving you a head start. You'd better run and not stop, because when I catch you...it's going to be time to give the Devil his due, beautiful." The smile dropped off of his face.

"_Run_."


	54. Chapter 54

I bolted upstairs and immediately went for the half-bathroom by the kitchen. I had a suspicion that was where he was holding Dean, and the chair in front of the door confirmed that notion.

I reached for the chair and pulled it away, grabbing the doorknob and trying to open it. "Dean," I called through the door.

"I heard," he replied. "Stand back."

"_No_." Randy's voice said authoritatively, and I glanced to see that he'd followed me to the kitchen. "He's not allowed out. I told _you_ to run. I have plans for him."

"Go, Cass," Dean urged me. "Just go. I'll be fine."

Randy grinned at me. "Four minutes."

"I'm sorry..." I said, resting my hand against the door one last time before bolting out through the garage. I ran into the backyard blindly, knowing that I should avoid the road but not sure where the acres of woods surrounding the house would take me.

I didn't have time to think. I ran. I saw a small path ahead and took it blindly, the worn down dirt and stones much more pleasant to run on in my bare feet than the sticks and leaves that comprised the floor of the actual woods.

I didn't make it as far as I would have liked. "I'm coming, Cassidy!" Randy yelled gleefully. A strangled sob fell from my lips before I clamped my hand over my mouth and forced my legs to keep moving. Behind me, I heard the roar of a motor coming to life and I realized that I'd never get away. The deck had always been stacked in his favor.

I veered off the path and plunged into the woods, ignoring the rocks and sticks that stabbed at my feet and scraped at my bare skin. I weaved through the trees, trying to keep up a fast pace and failing. There was no way I'd outrun him – the sound of the motor was getting closer.

I saw a huge tree a few yards ahead and gunned for it. If I hid well enough, maybe he'd drive right past and I could double-back to the house, get Dean out, and we could both leave.

I ducked around the backside of it just in time, resting my skin against the cold, rough bark and making myself as flat as possible. The truck crept past, its motor idling loudly. I dug my fingers into the bark, praying that he would keep driving.

He continued up the path a few yards before stopping. I heard the door to the truck slam and watched as a powerful light swept through the woods. My heart slammed against my ribcage as it came within feet of me before swinging back.

The light disappeared, and I forced myself to relax. The door to the truck slammed again, and I prepared to run back towards the house.

A shot rang out, crisp and clean in the night, and I screamed. I couldn't help it. I looked down, expecting to see blood – the pain would surely follow.

But I was fine. I hadn't been shot. Only now there were footsteps coming towards me, his boots breaking through the leaves and underbrush. I waited until he was nearly beside me before turning around and running for the truck, praying that I had enough fear and adrenaline coursing through me to give me the burst of speed I would need.

It didn't. He tackled me from behind, shoving me down onto the floor of the woods. I knocked my chin hard on a protruding rock, tasting blood in my mouth.

"Well hello there beautiful," he said beside my ear. "Fancy meeting you here."

He flipped me onto my back. "I win, Cass." He bent and kissed me fiercely, the taste of my blood mingling with the sharp taste of whatever alcohol he'd consumed earlier tonight. I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to shove him away, tried to squirm away from him and keep running – but he stopped that with a closed fist driven into my stomach.

"Don't be a sore loser," he snapped, standing up and picking me up off the ground. He threw me up over his shoulder and brought me back to the truck, pulling the tailgate down and dropping me into the back. He climbed up in with me, his hands tearing at the flimsy scraps of fabric he'd chosen for me to wear.

I tried shoving. I tried kicking. I even tried screaming, which only made him laugh and scream along with me. "See?" He said once I'd dissolved into sobs. "Nobody can hear you. So shut your fucking whore mouth."

He pinned my legs open with his knees, his hands gripping me tightly by the wrists. "We can do this two ways," he said close to my ear. "You can agree to be nice, agree to be gracious in defeat...and I'll be nice to you. Or you can keep being a bitch and I'll be a bastard. Which do you want?"

I spat in his face.

The world froze for a second before he laughed. "Good," he surprised me by saying. "I really didn't feel like being nice."

He flipped me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up. I used my hands to push myself up, throwing both of us off-balance – but I was prepared for it, and he wasn't. He fell back and I pulled away from him, jumping out of the truck and running back into the woods.

I ran blindly, heading in the direction of the house. He caught me easily, throwing me down on the ground and slamming my head against the packed dirt for good measure.

"Bitch," he growled, yanking my panties aside. "Stupid bitch."

He thrust into me, hard, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

He held my hands behind my back with one hand, the other grabbing my hair and pulling it roughly to bring the top half of my body up. "On your knees," he snapped. When I didn't comply, he pulled out of me. I felt the light touch of his erection against my ass, and my eyes widened. "On your knees or I just take what's in reach," he instructed again. I obeyed this time, hating him more than I ever dreamed possible.

He thrust into me again, moaning loudly as his cock slid completely in, all the way to the base. He thrust into me roughly several times, slamming my hips back against his before he pulled away again. "Turn around," he barked. I moved slowly, turning back towards him. He was standing, and without a word he shoved his dick towards my mouth.

"If you bite," he warned, grabbing my hair, "I swear to Christ I'll kill Dean in front of you." He thrust into my mouth, laughing when I gagged on him. He moved quickly and violently, thrusting deeply and without any care for my comfort or my ability to breathe.

Mercifully, he didn't want that particular act performed for too long. Just as he started to throb in my mouth, he pulled away and grabbed me by the neck, bringing me up to my feet. He slammed me back against a tree and yanked my legs up around his waist, ramming his cock completely inside of me once more.

He squeezed my throat as I beat ineffectually at his chest and shoulders, watching his eyes glow with both hatred and delight until the picture began to fade and darken.

He slapped me hard across the face, loosening his hand so that I was able to get a few gulps of air before bearing down and squeezing again. He repeated this process three times, bringing me to the edge of unconsciousness before brutally bringing me back.

The most disturbing part was how obviously excited he was by all of this. He was harder than I'd ever felt him, especially considering that he'd been drinking. When he finally came, his whole body shook violently as he clenched his eyes shut, riding out the pleasure. He left a copious amount of cum between my thighs, so much that even as I remained with my legs around his waist it began dripping out of me without the assistance of gravity.

His hand loosened around my throat and he pressed his lips tightly against mine. "You'd better get used to that," he murmured against my ear as he pulled away. "You're mine; and since you seem to keep forgetting that, now I'll just do with you as I please."


	55. Chapter 55

He threw me down the stairs to the basement, locking the door behind me. I tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom.

Everything ached. I began crying, trying to keep my sobs silent. I didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing just how badly he'd shaken me, of knowing just how hurt and terrified I was.

A warm hand lightly touched my shoulder. "Cass," Dean said. "Cass. Thank God."

I slapped his hand away and buried my face in my hands. I didn't want to be touched. "What did he..." Dean trailed off, and after a moment he was handing me something – soft fabric. "Put this on," he said gently.

I looked up and realized that he'd stripped his own t-shirt off and was now offering it to me so I could cover my bruised, scraped body. I swallowed hard and tried to regain my composure, pulling it up over my head.

I felt a little better once I was covered. "Can you stand?" He asked gently. "Let's get you to the couch. The floor here is cold. We'll wrap you up and you'll feel a little better."

I ignored his offered hand and stood on my own, following him wordlessly and hugging myself tightly. I collapsed onto the couch and he wrapped a blanket around me, taking obvious care not to let his hands hit my body.

He sat in a chair facing the couch for a long time while I said nothing. He waited patiently, a quality I never before would have believed that he possessed.

"I never had a chance," I said flatly after some time had passed. "I should have known better than to think for a minute he'd give me a fair shot."

Dean shrugged. "You had to try. Judging by the...it looks like you put up one hell of a fight. Not many people would."

"Fat lot of good it did me," I snapped bitterly.

"It did, Cass. You're still your own person. You're not his. No matter what he does to you."

I looked up at him suspiciously. "How did...how did you know what he said to me?"

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"In the woods. When he...after... He told me that I belonged to him."

Dean shook his head. "I didn't know, but it's not hard to figure him out. It's not hard to figure men like him out."

"Then give me some insight, because I'm having one hell of a time fucking figuring anything out right now." I fought back tears, clutching the blanket a little tighter around me.

He licked his lips slowly. "Randy...a guy like him, he gets off on the idea of being in control. It's easy to see that with the way he pushes his weight around the station, pushes his way around with you." Dean paused, and I could tell already that he was reluctant to say this next part. "But that's not all. I think I know what's going on in his head when it comes to you. He believes that you exist for him; that you were created for him and that your sole purpose in life is to please him. That's why he gets so bent out of shape when you're not doing things that, in his view, fulfill your purpose." I looked up and met his eyes. "Since you were created for him in this twisted little world view, of course he'd view you as his property."

"How would he get that kind of idea?" I asked. "How could he get that kind of idea in his head from one class we took together at SLU?"

Dean bit his lip, shrugging. "It could have been anything. Something you said in class, a presentation you made, even the way you looked at him one day could have sparked that idea. We're not talking about someone who's all there."

I closed my eyes, remembering what I'd forced out of my head during my failed flight attempt. "He killed my husband," I said hollowly. "He admitted that to me."

He blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry," he said after a few moments. "That couldn't have been easy to hear."

"No." I shoved the tears back. Now was not the time. "What do you think he's going to do with us?"

"He'll probably kill me," Dean said, his tone without grief, simply matter-of-fact. "But I think he'll try to convince you to fulfill your purpose at least one more time. You might be ok."

"I won't, because I won't allow him to convince me. I'd rather die," I spat. "I'd rather he fucking killed me than forcing me to be anywhere near him." I stood up and stared at the ceiling, screaming. "Do you hear that, you sick bastard? I'D RATHER FUCKING DIE THAN TOUCH YOU AGAIN! So come down here and just FUCKING DO IT."

"Be careful," Dean warned, standing up and guiding me back to the couch. "The mood he's in, he just might take you up on that. Let the situation cool a bit. We might be able to figure something out to get out of here."

"You don't believe that."

"No," he admitted. "No, I'm pretty certain I'm going to die here. But you won't. I promise. Just keep your head long enough for me to help you."

"I can't," I sobbed. "I can't do this anymore." I flung my arms around his neck and finally mourned everything I had lost in the last few years – I mourned for my husband, I mourned for Bill, but most of all...I mourned for myself.


	56. Chapter 56

"Cassidy," Randy barked from the top of the stairs.

I peeled myself away from Dean's chest and looked up at him uncertainly. He nodded at me. "It's ok," he said in a low voice. "Go see what he wants."

I stood shakily and made my way over to the bottom of the stairs, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.

He stared at me for a moment before speaking. I could see that he'd showered and changed – he was now wearing only a pair of blue pajama pants slung low across his hips. "Come on," he said, gesturing me towards him. "It's time for bed."

"I'm fine down here," I replied, hugging myself tighter.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not giving you a choice. Up here now." He paused. "And take that fucking shirt off."

I glanced towards Dean, who nodded slowly.

I could see what he was trying to do – he was trying to make it so that Randy would be calm. I had to believe in him; I had to believe that he knew what he was doing. Swallowing hard, I pulled Dean's shirt up over my head and tossed it back to him. "Thank you," I said to him quietly before slowly ascending the stairs.

Randy held his hand out when I was a step or two away from him, and I reluctantly took it. He led me up to his bedroom, gesturing me towards the bathroom. "Go clean yourself up."

I followed his instructions numbly, grateful to be alone for a few minutes under the warm running water of the shower. When I finally turned the water off and pulled the curtain back, I could see that Randy had brought in a towel and a shirt of his own for me to wear.

I could hear the faint sounds of the television beyond the closed door, an obnoxious laugh track over some stupid sitcom, and I wanted to throw something. How could he just sit there and watch TV like nothing else was happening? Like this – my battered body, a man locked in our basement – was totally normal?

I steeled myself before I walked out. Dean was right. I needed to be smart.

Wordlessly, I slid into the bed and turned my body away from him. The room was silent, and I could feel his displeasure wash over me. I didn't have it in me to care.

"I didn't enjoy that," he finally said, clicking the TV off. "I didn't enjoy that one bit."

"Liar," I spat before I could stop myself, angry tears sliding down my cheek. "You fucking liar."

He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, staring into my eyes for several seconds before releasing me. I curled my legs up and tucked my arms against my chest, resolving not to say anything else tonight.

"When are you going to believe that I'm only doing what's best for you?"

"Killing my husband was best for me? Breaking my heart, making me live some kind of half-life, stealing the fulfillment of every dream I ever had...that was what was best for me?"

I turned around and hit him. I just kept hitting him, over and over again, sobbing and yelling incoherently. "You did what was best for _you_," I snapped, finally unable to lift my hand any longer to hit him. "You never considered what was best for _me_."

He didn't say anything for a long time. I didn't notice, drowning in the riptide of my own grief. After several moments, both of his arms wrapped around me and he pulled me into his chest. It wasn't what I'd expected.

"How did he die?" I whispered. "How did it happen?"

He sighed. "I don't think you want to know that."

"I do."

"You're in a very emotional state -"

"Shut up and fucking tell me."

I didn't think he was going to speak, but eventually he did. "Lundy and I were following you and Pete that night. We staked out the bar where he'd been playing, hoping to nail a few drunks as they left. Pete was one of the drunks. We were about to turn the lights on when he veered to the other side of the road, over-corrected, and hit the pole. I watched him fly out of the car.

"I approached the car first, looking for you. You were in tough shape. I think Lundy knew that there was something between you and I, because he sent me to deal with your husband. He was still breathing when I knelt beside him, but barely. He was blind stinking drunk, and I was so fucking angry that he'd endangered your life like that.

"Lundy was busy with you. The fire department hadn't shown up yet. I told Lundy he wasn't breathing and that I was going to start CPR. I had my back to you guys and Lundy wasn't paying attention, so I clamped my hand over his nose and mouth and told him that I hoped he rotted in hell."

He pulled my chin up and kissed me. "I don't regret it for a minute."

I slapped him again, and he glared at me for a minute before laughing bitterly and shaking his head. "I told you that you didn't want to know," he snapped. "I told you no good would come of it. Why does it fucking matter, Cassidy?"

"You _murdered_ my husband! I'd say it fucking matters."

He rolled his eyes. "He wouldn't have survived the hospital anyway. I'm just glad that I was able to put that motherfucking scumbag out of his misery, so you could give your love to someone actually who deserved it."

"I will _never love you_," I spat. "_Never_."

He laughed. "Short memory? You already do. You admitted as much to me. And you don't just fall out of love with someone – so I know it's still there, buried beneath this little bit of anger you seem to hold towards me. Why, I'm not totally sure. But I know that I can bring it to the surface again." He pulled me back to him and kissed me again, impervious to the fists I was striking his shoulders with. He smiled as he moved away from me, placing one last kiss on my lips.

"For your sake, honey...I better be able to remind you that you love me. Otherwise..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Let's just say that tonight is going to seem like a pleasant dream."


	57. Chapter 57

The sun was streaming in through the bedroom windows when I woke up; a cheery, beautiful day that did nothing to fit my mood.

The first realization I had was that I was completely restrained for the first time since I'd arrived – my hands were both cuffed to the headboard, and when I tried to move my feet they were tied down as well. This left me with a stunning view of the ceiling and not much else.

The second realization – and the one that startled me into being completely awake – was that Randy was down between my thighs, his tongue working against me fiercely. He must have been there for quite some time, as I was about to have a rather intense orgasm completely against my will.

I clamped my mouth shut and tried to hold back, but my body began shaking with the effort. He knew. He pulled back slightly, chuckling, and ran his fingers between my lips, settling around my entrance and pushing only his fingertip inside of me.

"Morning sweetheart," he greeted me, his voice still full of sleep. His free hand crept up and gently took hold of my breast before his mouth returned to its glorious work.

The lust I felt, the pleasure I felt, overtook the sensible parts of my brain. Before long I was moaning quietly, rocking my hips against his face and straining against my restraints, desperate to touch him; desperate to grab his head and direct his attention where I wanted it.

He knew, of course. "What do you say, Cass?" He said in a low voice, lightly stroking my clit and making me whimper with frustration. "Do you want to cum, baby?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"Ask nice."

I swallowed hard, hesitating, and he bent and licked me once. "Please," I spat out, my heart racing in my chest and my sex pulsating and aching with stymied release.

"Please what, honey?"

I took a deep breath. "Please make me cum."

"Mmm," he murmured, waiting several seconds before putting his mouth back to work. I came almost immediately, crying out without any shame as he finally brought me to that sweet place of pleasure.

"I know," Randy growled, adjusting his position, "what my girl likes."

He rammed inside of me, and I cried out again as another tremor ran through my body. He rode it out with me, bending his head to tease my nipples with his tongue as he rocked his hips against mine. My body went limp, exhausted, and he went about his business.

I expected him to have his own orgasm and be done with it, but to my surprise he built me up again – gently stroking my clit as he rolled his hips in an attempt to hit my g-spot. When I came this time, I nearly came up off the bed – my body tense and taut while Randy attempted to push me further with long, deep thrusts.

When I finally collapsed back onto the bed, sweaty and spent, he finally let go and filled me with his cum.

He fell on top of me, panting, and placed gentle kisses along my face and neck. "How many times did you cum?" He asked. I stared at him for a minute – shouldn't he, who proclaimed to know when I was faking, know that already? "How many times?" He demanded.

"Three."

"Speak up."

I cleared my throat. "Three."

He grinned before placing one last kiss on my lips. "Three," he repeated. "You heard it from her own mouth," he said, turning towards the back of the room. "Three times, even though she proclaims to hate me at the moment. Do you see now?" He reached down and cupped the area between my thighs. "Mine. Don't forget that."

I looked at him, confused. "Randy...are you talking to me?"

"No," he replied patiently, keeping his eyes trained on the foot of the bed. "I'm talking to Dean."

"...What?"

He smiled serenely. "He tried to tell me this morning that I should just let the two of you go. That you would need time to process everything I told you before you could decide whether or not you wanted to be with me. I saw through it right away – he just wanted you for himself. So I decided I'd show him – and remind you – that you're right where you belong." He bent and kissed me, his lips suddenly hard against mine. "Aren't you, now?"

I didn't answer right away. He gripped me roughly by the cheeks. "I said," he repeated, raising his voice slightly, "aren't you now?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "Yes. Good girl." He stood up and stretched before disappearing out of view. When he came back, he was throwing a t-shirt over his head. "I'm going to leave you two here to...well, you can't really chat. It would be a pretty one-sided conversation." He pulled me upright so I could see Dean – he was in a chair at the foot of the bed, duct tape over his mouth and zip ties restraining his hands. "But I'll leave you here as a...visual reminder for each other. Cass, see what happens to people who interfere with us. And Dean..." He rounded on Dean, grinning. "Watch my cum drip out of her pussy and know that I'll be filling it up again later. She's mine, and you don't have any say in that."

He turned back and kissed me. "I'll be back soon. I need to go to the hardware store and get a new door. Someone got it in his head last night to try and bust a bathroom door down. Futile and stupid, if you ask me." He paused, staring at me. "Behave," he warned. "Be good for me now, and I'll be good to you later. Do you understand me?"

I nodded unhappily, allowing him to kiss me one last time before he left the house and left Dean and I to stare at one another, suspended in time until he returned.


	58. Chapter 58

I could hear Randy whistling downstairs as he worked, a cheerful happy tune. He hadn't been gone long, leaving Dean and I to stare at each other wordlessly. He had looked haunted, as I was sure that I did. Randy had come home and bodily removed Dean from the room, taking him...somewhere. He left me chained to the bed.

I'd barely been able to look at Dean the whole time we were alone, so I found that I was actually better with this arrangement. I was positively mortified – both at having been so exposed and at having so obviously enjoyed being intimate with a man I professed to loathe. If he was able to do that to me, did I truly hate him? It was something I tried – and failed – to reconcile in my head.

Randy finally came back upstairs, interrupting this circuitous route of thought. "Door's all set," he announced.

"Great," I replied, genuinely trying to sound enthusiastic. "Thanks."

He grinned, stripping his shirt off. "You're welcome, pretty lady."

I swallowed hard and decided to at least attempt it, seeing that he was in a good mood. "Is there any way..." I nodded down between my thighs, and he raised an eyebrow. "Now that Dean's gone, I mean. Could I get cleaned up?"

He studied me for a minute before shrugging indifferently and walking into the bathroom. I heard the water running for a bit, and he came back out with a wet washcloth. He settled on the bed beside me and began gently wiping at the sticky mess.

"You were good this morning," he said thoughtfully as he worked. "I wasn't sure how you were going to react." He glanced up at me. "I'm still not sure how you're going to react."

"I...I don't know either," I admitted. "All I know is that I am tired. I'm tired of fighting. I just want this all to be over."

"I understand. I'm tired of fighting, too." He paused, sighing. "But you know that we need to talk about this," he added, a small threat in his voice. "We need to get it all out so we can move forward."

"I know," I assured him. "I just still need some time. I'm...very angry and upset with you. I'm sure you understand that."

"I do," he replied, nodding. The motion of his fingers changed from cleaning to stroking, and I looked at him suspiciously. He grinned. "Making sure you're really clean," he said, although his voice had dropped an octave.

I blinked a few times, trying to ignore the sweet sensations flowing out from his touch "Randy," I breathed, trying to pull away.

"Earlier was just for show," he said, removing the washcloth and simply stroking me with his fingers. "Earlier was for Dean. This one is going to be for you."

"You don't have to..."

He bent and kissed me, effectively cutting off my protest. "It's like I said, honey – you be good for me, and I'll be good to you. Well, you were good for me. I'm just keeping up my end of the bargain."

"Can you..." I rattled my hands. "I want to be able to touch you." I could see the suspicion on his face. "You can keep my feet the way they are," I assured him.

He hesitated briefly before reaching in his pocket and pulling out the keys. He unlocked my hands slowly, and I moved them gratefully, attempting to get the feeling and blood flow back into them after a night of remaining motionless.

He lie down beside me and I carefully wrapped my arms around his neck while his fingers worked between my thighs. I closed my eyes and forced myself, as I had so often lately, to forget the circumstances and focus on the sensations. Before long, I was moaning softly and writhing against his hand.

"That's it," he murmured in my ear. "That's it, baby. Let go. Let it all go."

I did. I put every worry, every fear I had aside and sat bolt upright in the bed, gripping his hand tightly to keep it in place, trying desperately to keep those sweet waves washing over me from ever stopping. I wanted the moment to last forever, because in that moment I wasn't afraid.

But the moment did end. I fell back on the bed, closing my eyes against Randy's satisfied smile. I didn't want to share in his triumph.

He stroked a hand over my shoulder, wisely remaining silent. I nestled deeper into his chest, surrounding myself with familiarity and trying to pretend, for just a brief moment, that everything was normal.

"See?" He said softly, kissing my forehead. "We're going to be just fine. We're going to get there." He put two fingers under my chin and brought my face up to meet my eyes. "Do you believe that?"

I didn't know how to answer. "I'm trying," I repeated, echoing my statement from what felt like a lifetime ago. "I really am trying."

"I'll accept that answer for now," he said slowly, "but soon it's not going to be good enough. You know that, right? Sooner or later you need to stop trying and just _do_."

I looked at him helplessly, and he lightly kissed me again. "That day isn't today, but it's coming soon. I want you to be aware of that. We don't need any more problems, do we now?"

"No," I agreed, closing my eyes. "No, we don't."


	59. Chapter 59

Randy untied my legs and allowed me to curl up beside him for a short while. My body whined in protest as it was finally able to move for the first time in hours, but after a few painful minutes it settled into a dull ache.

My stomach grumbled unhappily and Randy pulled away, practically jumping out of bed and offering me his hand. "Hell," he said, shaking his head. "I forgot to feed you yesterday."

I shrugged. "I didn't really have much of an appetite anyway," I replied, taking his hand and cautiously standing up.

"Still," he muttered disapprovingly, "I should know better. I need to take care of you." He pressed his lips to the top of my head and turned to open a drawer in his dresser, tossing me a clean t-shirt. I had a brief visual of running up to him in that moment and slamming his head down on the hard wooden surface, but he had turned back around before I could truly act.

I managed a weak smile as I pulled the shirt up over my head, still visualizing the damage I'd love to inflict on him. I realized in that moment that I did hate him, purely and truly. I had, however, told him the truth – I was tired. Not physically, but in every other way. My soul was weary and I didn't want to keep fighting. I simply wanted to survive.

Survival meant being smart. Survival meant picking my moment. Survival wasn't these feeble, futile attempts I kept making. Survival was planning.

My facial expression must have changed. He was studying me intently. "Are you all right? You look...angry."

I could have denied it. I could have told him that everything was ok. But it wasn't, and I was sick of acting like it was.

"Of course I'm angry," I replied, trying to keep my voice even. "This is not my ideal situation, Ran. Being locked up to the point where I can't even feed myself if you forget...it's not how I want to live my life."

He nodded. "I understand. But it's what we have to work with right now."

"Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, _why_?"

"You know I don't have any way of leaving. The one person who might help me is locked up in the basement. You have alarms all over the house. But you're still tying me to your bed, making me completely dependent on you for the activities of everyday living." I paused. "If you want me to love you, you need to give me some measure of freedom here. I'll only resent you more when you do things like forget to feed me."

I could see his jaw set in hard lines, his eyes narrowed as he looked at me. Finally, he nodded. "All right. Come on downstairs, let's get you something to eat, and we can discuss this." He offered me his hand. I wasn't stupid enough not to take it.

We went down into the kitchen and I forced myself to eat what he set down in front of me. I still didn't necessarily have an appetite, but I realized that I should try to keep my strength up.

"So," he said once I'd pushed my empty plate away, "tell me why I should let you roam through the house unattended when I'm not here?"

I could already tell that it was a losing battle with the way he phrased that question. Still, I needed to try.

"You can't keep me like that forever," I said, electing to go for the big guns immediately. "At some point, you're going to have to trust me."

"After you ran off last night?"

"After you put a gun in my face and _told_ me to run. What would you have done?" I leaned back in my chair. "You said it yourself – I was good for you this morning. I was good for you up until Dean showed up, in fact, and I had nothing to do with that."

"Didn't you, though?" He leaned back himself, lacing his fingers on his stomach. "'Help', you told him as he was leaving. Of course he came back."

I found myself stunned. "How did you...?"

He grinned, shrugging. "I have my ways, honey." He sat up. "So do you want to try again? Do you have some grand argument that'll blow the doors off my way of thinking? Because here's where we're at, pretty lady – I give you a measure of freedom and you try to run. I keep you locked up tight and you behave. Tell me what experience dictates here."

I was quiet for a minute. "You can't keep me like this forever," I finally repeated, completely aware that I sounded like a petulant child.

"That's not my intention," he replied patiently. "I haven't quite figured out the particulars on how you can prove to me that you're trustworthy – you shook me pretty badly with that, you know – but I will. Until then," he shook his head. "you're stuck with this situation."

I glared angrily at him, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them tightly. "Don't be mad at me, now," he snapped. "This is all your own doing. You made this bed for yourself."

I hesitated for a second. "What about Dean?"

"What _about_ him?"

"Someone's going to come looking for him eventually. Someone who knows that you two aren't exactly on the best of terms. What happens then?"

"Let me worry about that."

"You're not thinking all of this through," I warned. "You're going to get caught."

"And I bet your little heart would just be broken, now wouldn't it?" He laughed, shaking his head. "You're not going to get one over on me, Cassidy. Just save both of us the aggravation and stop trying. It's simple – behave, and eventually I might indulge your request for a bit of autonomy. Keep this bullshit up, and I'm just going to get meaner as time goes on." He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I don't _want_ to keep fighting against you, but I will."

"What do you _want_ from me?" I snapped.

He stared at me for several moments. "I just want you," he finally replied. "That's it. Just you. And I'll do whatever it takes to have you. Whether you hate me, fight against me, try to run, try to hide – I'm just going to keep trying."

He put his hand out. "Come on," he said gently. "Date night. We had dinner; now let's go watch a movie."

"This isn't going to go away over dinner and some stupid movie," I replied.

"Do you think I don't realize that?" He growled. "Do you think I'm not completely aware that there's no magic cure? I'm trying to make things as normal as fucking possible – not easy, given the circumstances. The least you can do is try and play along." He paused. "So get your ass up out of that fucking chair and come with me. I've indulged you for this long, but I'm starting to lose my temper."

I didn't move for a minute. "Up!" He yelled, slamming a fist down on the table in front of me. "Are you fucking deaf? Get your ass up!"

Hating myself just a little more than before, I stood up and took his hand.

"Was that," he snarled, "so_ fucking_ hard?"


	60. Chapter 60

"Stop," I grumbled, pushing him away as he practically crawled into my lap to kiss my neck.

He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my face around to his, pressing his lips against mine. I shoved at his shoulders ineffectually. "You're not going to make this any easier on yourself, are you?" He asked as he pulled back.

"I'm angry with you," I reminded him.

"Well, I'm fucking furious with you, but you don't see me acting like a bitch." He flopped on the opposite side of the couch, arms crossed over his chest. I tried to surreptitiously slide further away from him, putting my feet up in the space between us.

We both stared at the screen blankly for several minutes, the tension swirling around the room and building to the point where I knew it was going to explode.

"I'm so sick of this bullshit," he finally announced, standing up and walking out of the room.

I heard a door slam towards the front of the house and assumed that he'd left. I sat on the couch for a bit, still staring at the TV while my thoughts raced. I needed to be careful with this one.

I stood up and walked towards the front door cautiously, peering through the window to see him standing out on the porch with his back to me. I faintly caught a whiff of tobacco smoke.

I opened the door – no alarm sounded – and stepped out beside him.

"I didn't know you'd started smoking again."

He inhaled deeply one last time before stubbing out the cigarette on the railing. "Just picked up a pack today. Hoped I wouldn't need it." He glanced over at me, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. "As has seemed to happen with all my hopes and dreams lately, that one was blown to shit." He turned his whole body to me, leaning casually against one of the support beams. "You going to try to run?"

"You'd only catch me," I replied. "There's no point."

He shook his head. "I can't figure you out. One minute you're fighting me tooth and nail; the next you're here carrying on a conversation with me like you actually care. It's driving me nuts."

I considered his words for a moment. "You're pushing too hard," I finally said. "You want too much from me right away. You need to give me time." I took a step towards him. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I'll fall madly in love with you. I don't believe that will happen. But I will tell you that if you handle this right, I can probably live with you. I'm tired of fighting. I'm willing to see where we can meet in the middle, but in order to do that – you've got to give me some ground."

He worried his jaw back and forth. "Like giving you free run of the house?" He asked dryly.

"No. Like not forcing your affection on me when I don't want it," I snapped. "You know I'm pissed off; you know that I'm hurt and I'm scared and I'm confused by everything that's going on...but you think that's the best time to try and shove your tongue down my throat? You're smarter than that."

I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was gearing up to yell. "Just don't," I said. "Please. Let's talk like two people for a minute. Let's just talk like human beings."

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "What do you want me to do?"

"Give me space." He looked ready to yell again, so I hastily added - "Space doesn't mean free reign. It doesn't mean I walk out of here. _I'm_ not that stupid. It just means..." I paused, trying to figure out exactly what it meant. "It means let's talk instead of fuck. Let's spend time together without ever touching one another. Let me sleep alone, in a bed, and give me a chance to decompress."

He stared at me for a minute, the anger slowly fading out of his eyes. "And if you have the chance to run? What happens then?"

I knew that I'd run like hell, but admitting that to him was a little too much honesty for one day. "I don't know," I admitted. "It depends on where we are. I'm trying, Randy – but you have to try, too."

He blinked a few times before inhaling deeply through his nose. "What the hell," he said hollowly. "Not like things could get any worse."

I took a deep breath. "Let Dean go."

"No," he said immediately, shaking his head fiercely. "Absolutely not."

"You have to do it at some point. Let it be now. We can deal with the consequences of whatever he goes off and does, whoever he tells – but things won't get better for us until you let him go."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll be constantly afraid that you're going to kill him like you did Pete. Like you did Billy. I'll be afraid of you every moment of every day that he's here. It won't fade away, like it might if you let him go."

He bit his lower lip. "Might, huh? Not even a definite?"

I shook my head. "I can't say anything for sure." He sighed, and we were both quiet for a long time.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," a voice finally snapped from the doorway. I turned to see Dean standing there, arms crossed over his chest and a slight grin on his face. "Just tell her already."


	61. Chapter 61

I looked back and forth between the two of them, stunned. Dean looked amused; Randy...he had an expression on his face that I couldn't place, which was a first for me. If I had to guess, he vacillated between amusement and guilt.

"Tell me what?" I asked, trying to pull back my shock.

"I did a bad thing," Dean said, his voice mockingly apologetic.

I looked away from the two of them, trying to pull back tears as the truth dawned on me. "You were never here to help me leave, were you?"

"No ma'am," he replied easily. "I was here to help Randy keep an eye on you."

I looked up at Randy, who met my eyes hesitantly. "Is that true?"

He nodded, having the good sense to look apprehensive. "Let's go inside and talk about this. You look like you're freezing."

Dean held the door open for both of us as we stepped inside. Randy steered me to the kitchen so I wouldn't see Dean put in the security code for the alarm.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming as I took a seat at the table. The situation had been dangerous before; now it was downright deadly. I didn't know yet what I was stepping into, and until I did I was best served keeping my temper in check.

"Randy," Dean said, stepping into the kitchen. "Why don't you go out and grab us some coffee or something? Let me talk to Cass about this."

Randy looked as if he was going to protest, but Dean gently grabbed his arm and steered him towards the door. "You're upset," I could hear him saying in a low voice. "She's upset. The situation needs to calm down a bit. She can ask you any questions she has when you get back, but for now – take a break."

He glanced in at me, and I had to look away again. My anger was creeping up on me as the reality of the situation was starting to hit home.

He left without another word, and Dean sidled back into the room with an infuriating smile. "Can I get you a drink?" He asked, making his way towards the fridge.

"No."

He opened the door and took out two beers anyway, popping the tops and handing me one before joining me at the table.

"Now I realize that you probably have a million questions, and I understand. But I'm going to ask you to just listen for a few minutes. I'll lay everything out as best I can, and you can ask me any questions at the end. Deal?"

I didn't answer, staring at him mistrustfully with my hand wrapped around the bottle. "Drink up," he said, nodding towards it. "You've earned it."

I cautiously brought the bottle to my lips and took a swig. Goddamn, that tasted good. Dean seemed to be satisfied with my course of action, taking a sip of his own beer and sighing.

"I hardly know where to begin," he mused. "It's been a long road the three of us have shared."

I raised an eyebrow and opened my mouth to ask him what in the hell he was talking about before I elected to just shut up and listen.

"You asked how Randy had fallen so deeply in love with you during one class at SLU. I remember. I'm sure he does too, and in much greater detail than I do. We had that one girl, real raging so-called feminist who ripped apart the stay-at-home mom model. God she was a bitch. Do you remember her name?"

I shook my head. I could see her clear as day, but I couldn't put a name to the face. He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Anyway. You were the only one who stood up and said that feminism wasn't about being in the workplace, feminism was the right to choose where you wanted to be in the world. And if you chose to be a stay-at-home mom, it didn't make you less of a feminist."

He grinned. "Randy's a good old boy at heart. Hearing this beautiful girl that he'd lusted after proclaim that she'd be proud to be a stay-at-home wife and mother...he was gone after that. There was no way to talk him out of it.

"He followed you to New York. I moved around a bit, bouncing from place to place. We got in touch again after both of you had moved down here. He suggested that I attend the police academy so he could get me a job." He laughed. "I never fucking imagined I'd actually do it; I have a healthy distaste for authority. I was just sick of being so...unrooted in life, and the idea of settling in somewhere really appealed to me.

"Imagine my surprise to find out that you were here, too. I should have known. Randy isn't the type to give up easily. After he 'met' you...oh God Cass, I wish you could have seen it through my eyes. The guy was so fucking happy. I'd never seen him like that. He's been a friend for years. I'd do anything – _anything_ – to keep him happy."

"Including this," I said, forgetting the rule about interrupting. I felt like I was about to be sick. This whole time... I didn't even know what to think; I simply felt disgusting. I felt betrayed and enraged and more than a little worried that I hadn't even noticed these two men influencing every avenue of my life until I was here, locked inside a house with both of them. And not even then was it my own conclusion; they'd had to come out and tell me? I'd never felt more stupid than I did in this moment.

"Including this," he agreed. "I had some qualms about it. I struggled for a bit. What sane person wouldn't? But it all came back to Randy. It was easy to see. He was miserable without you, and you weren't exactly full of rainbows and sunshine yourself."

He didn't speak for a few minutes. I assumed we'd moved into the question and answer portion of our evening...and boy did I have questions.

"Why did you tell me about SLU?"

He shrugged. "Like I said, I had doubts. I vacillated back and forth for a bit. Randy admitted that he wanted to be honest with you, that he wanted you to know the truth – but he was afraid. When he and I had a little...dispute...I elected to tell you for him."

"Why did you act the way you did at first?"

"The blatant hitting on you?" He asked with a smirk. I nodded. "To test your trustworthiness. Randy felt that I had the same kind of attitude your former husband did, that swaggering distaste for authority. He was worried you might be attracted to that in another man, so he asked me to see if you would take the bait. He was glad you didn't."

"Why did you kiss me that night in my kitchen?"

He stopped for a minute before answering. "Part of the reason I gave you was true – I was drunk, and you're attractive. That's why I didn't mind when Randy asked me to do it. One last test of your fidelity."

I bit my lower lip. "What are you getting out of this?"

"You mean besides the joy of seeing a treasured friend in a state of complete bliss?" He paused and stared down at his beer bottle. "Well. That's a whole different story."


	62. Chapter 62

He looked up at me. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

I wasn't. I wasn't sure at all. I considered his question for a minute before returning with one of my own, in a feeble attempt at a stalling tactic. "How...how involved in all of this have you been?"

"Heavily involved. Randy's relied on me from before the very first time you and I met. Well, the first time we met that you remember."

"Seth? Roman?"

"Hired hands, friendly, but not as close as Randy and I."

"Hunter?"

He grinned. "He's a good boss. He believes what we tell him. He stands by us, especially when we...manipulate the evidence to get it to say what we need it to say."

I met his eyes and asked the question that had been pounding in my head since my arrival here. "How bad is this going to get for me?"

He shrugged, shaking his head and opening his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. "That depends entirely on you. You have the ability to control your own fate here. You know what will piss Randy off. Don't do those things." He paused, studying me for a minute. "If you're good to him, he will move heaven and earth to make you happy. I know. I've seen him do it."

I looked away and sighed heavily. "So what's in it for you?" I asked again. "And yes, I do want to hear it now."

He grinned, a half-grin. "I could tell you the little perks – money, for one. The promise of a promotion once Randy moves into Hunter's spot for another. But that's not the main reason."

"So what is it?" I asked, growing impatient.

Dean grinned, licking his lips. "Do you remember me telling you that Randy is among the best of us?" I nodded slowly. "I bet that worried you at the time, knowing that he has a bad temper. And I bet you didn't believe it, even though you should have.

"I used to...get into a lot of trouble with women. I have a hard time keeping my hands to myself when I see something that I want. I've managed to mostly grow out of it, learn how to control my urges. But in order to do that, I sometimes need to exorcise those demons."

My eyes widened, and he laughed. "Don't worry. I didn't want to get you alone so I could rape you. Randy would never allow me anywhere near you if he thought that was the case."

I couldn't find my voice for a few seconds. "So...what, then?"

He glanced away, sighing - not out of shame, but out of an obvious reluctance. "He lets me watch you two," he finally said, taking a drink. "Some of the things he does to you...it's because I ask. It's because it's something I want to see."

I pushed the chair back from the table quickly and violently. Dean was on his feet immediately to guard against me running. I shook my head, putting my hand over my mouth. He understood and allowed me to run into the bathroom. I slammed the door shut so I could at least be alone while I vomited.

After my stomach was empty, I slumped beside the toilet and began sobbing as silently as I could. I hadn't been sure I could have possibly felt more violated, but I did. I didn't even feel like a person any longer; I felt like a dirty, used _thing_.

Dean rapped his knuckles on the door. "All right in there?"

No. No, I wasn't all right. Was he out of his fucking mind?

"Just...give me a minute," I managed to say like a completely rational person. In truth, I was boiling with rage. Not only had Randy allowed someone to watch him brutalize me, but he'd taken _fucking requests_?

There was no rationalization. There was no chance of redemption. He had gone too far.

I stood up and flushed, rinsing my mouth out at the sink. I needed to get out of here, but running blindly would only bring further misery on my head. I tried to reign in my emotions, mentally pleading with my anger to quiet down so that I could think.

There would be a time for revenge. This wasn't it. Dean was on high alert after telling me this, and rightfully so. If I lost my head now, things were only going to get worse. I couldn't imagine _how_, exactly, but I knew that men this sick had ideas that I couldn't even fathom.

I opened the door. Dean was still standing there, studying me intently. "I want to go to bed," I announced.

"Randy should be back any –"

"I don't care," I interrupted. "I want to go to bed, and I want to be alone. Lock me in if you have to, but don't let him anywhere near me tonight."

He bit his lower lip and contemplated for a moment. "All right," he said, taking me by the elbow. I did my best to not shrink away from his touch as he led me to the basement. I watched, disgusted, as he fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

"Sleep well," he said as I began my descent. "This all...it won't seem so bad in the morning, all right?"

I highly doubted that.


	63. Chapter 63

After several hours of absolute chaos upstairs, the house had finally gone dark and quiet. I was certain that everyone else was asleep, but I still tossed and turned on my makeshift couch-bed.

I'd gotten what I wanted – I was alone. From what I could hear of their conversation, Randy hadn't wanted Dean to tell me everything. There had been a rather...vocal...protest on his part, accompanied by the sounds of glass shattering. He tried to come down to see me, but Dean had stopped him with what might have been the truest words in the history of mankind.

"She said she wants to be alone," he argued in a low, soft voice. "She's either asleep, crying, or plotting. In any case, that's not something a man should interrupt. Not when he's the cause of those conditions. Just leave her be for now."

That had seemed to make sense to him. The yelling and breaking things had finally stopped, although I did hear a few doors slam.

I rolled over unhappily, trying to calm my agonized, racing brain. It didn't work.

I hated both of them. I'd never experienced such a pure emotion before in my life. Even before tonight, with everything Randy had done, my head was still muddied. He'd shown me his capacity to be a loving, caring partner, and it was an illusion I still tried desperately to cling to even as logic dictated that I abandon that notion altogether.

There was no longer any sense of ambivalence in my head. He had done sick, twisted things – and he had done them for an audience; performed these horrid things as a way to gain assistance in keeping me under his thumb. There was no getting past such a thing.

Even as these thoughts swirled through my head, I heard the sound of a key hitting the lock upstairs. I forced myself to relax and close my eyes, breathing deeply and evenly.

I didn't want to deal with it at the moment. I just wanted to be angry. I realized how counter-productive that was, but seeing as everything I had done from the moment I'd met Randy was an exercise in futility, I figured a few more days wouldn't hurt.

Footsteps padded softly down the stairs. I followed their progress as they came across the room and paused beside my head. I forced myself to keep my eyes shut. After several long minutes, the steps picked up again and I heard a familiar squeak as a body settled into one of the chairs.

The room fell quiet for a long time, although there was a sense of tension and expectation in the air.

"I know you're not sleeping," Randy's low voice finally broke through the night.

I didn't give a fuck what he knew; I didn't have anything to say to him.

We lapsed back into uncomfortable silence for several minutes before I heard the squeak signifying that he'd stood up. "All right," he said, from much closer than I expected. He bent and tried to press his lips to my forehead, but I squirmed away. I didn't want any part of his body to touch mine.

He sighed heavily and lingered for a moment before I heard his footsteps retreating and going back up the stairs, locking the door and leaving me to my thoughts once more.

I didn't sleep. I kept waiting to hear the key in the door again, waiting for Randy to come down and demand my attention. I simply wasn't sure how I wanted to handle this situation yet.

I was finally able to relax when I heard Randy leave the house for work. I knew that Dean wasn't stupid or stubborn enough to come down and bother me, and when I could hear him moving around upstairs I knew that he was entertaining himself. I slept. Terribly, but I slept.

Dean finally opened the door around noon. "Food," was all he said. He waited a moment to see if I was going to respond. I didn't, and so he left.

I could get used to this.

I cautiously stood and climbed the stairs, grabbing the plate he'd left on the top step. A messily-made peanut butter sandwich and chips, plus my daily birth control pill. At least they weren't trying to knock me up yet, I thought wryly. One point in favor of the psychopaths.

I turned on the television in an attempt to keep my mind focused on something – anything – else. It worked for a little while, until Randy came home from work. I knew it was coming and waited unhappily for the moment he opened the door.

He came down with dinner and dropped it on the coffee table. I didn't touch it. He settled into the chair to watch me while I watched television. After an hour of silence, he finally left again. I ate what he'd brought down.

The next few days remained much the same. I refused to speak to either of them. Randy kept coming down, although I could feel his agitation growing every day I didn't speak to him.

On the fourth day, it finally broke. I woke up to see Dean sitting in the chair, staring at me. "Good morning," he said pleasantly. "How did you sleep?"

I kept my mouth shut, and he shook his head. "OK Cassidy. That's enough now. We're both losing our patience."

I turned my head towards him, but said nothing. He sighed. "Listen," he said, leaning forward on his knees. "Randy is trying his best to keep his temper, but you know he won't hold it forever. You need to quit this nonsense."

"I have nothing to say to either of you," I replied, my voice rough and scratchy.

"Well isn't that nice," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Let me give it to you straight – I don't give a shit what you have to say. But Randy does. And if you don't start saying something to him – anything – it's not going to go well for you. You won't be the girl he loves; you'll be a piece of ass. And you know what happens then?"

I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Do you?" He pressed. I shook my head. "Then he gives you to me," he said matter-of-factly. "And you don't want that to happen. I'll do all the things to you that Randy refused to do. You'll be a broken shell of a woman, and you'll exist only for me to fuck. When I get tired of you, I'll slit your goddamn throat and dump you in the woods."

He stood up. "So, say hello to the guy. Save your own skin. Or don't. I'll have a lot more fun that way."

He left me alone with these lovely thoughts. When Randy came down that night, placing the plate in front of me, I took a deep breath.

"Thank you," I said woodenly.


	64. Chapter 64

He was obviously stunned, staring at me for a few moments before stammering out "Y-you're welcome" and quickly retreating to his usual chair.

I picked up the plate he'd brought down and began eating. He, wisely, remained silent. I stared at the screen while I ate, mentally cursing my lack of gumption. If only I was stronger, smarter – I could get myself out of this mess.

I put the empty plate down a short while later, my thoughts still swimming unhappily around what a coward I was being.

"How was it?" Randy asked.

"Good."

We lapsed back into silence. I got the sense that he didn't want to press his luck. When the usual hour had passed, he still lingered for a few minutes.

"Are you comfortable down here?" He finally asked. "Sleeping ok?"

"I'm fine."

"You can come and sleep in my bed if you want. I'll sleep on the couch."

"I'm fine."

There was a moment of silence. "I'll see you tomorrow night then."

"See you."

He stood up to leave, hesitating once more. He looked like he wanted to come over, but thought better of it and eventually made his way back upstairs. I could hear him conversing with Dean in low tones, and I realized that Dean was getting a progress report. Good. Maybe he'd back off a bit on the threats when he realized I was being a good girl.

I slept miserably, my brain feebly attempting to rationalize my behavior and trying to convince my beaten soul that I wasn't giving up. I was living to fight another day.

I contemplated that notion as I waited at the top of the steps for Dean the following morning. I didn't want to fight. I was tired of fighting. It had brought me nothing but grief up until this point. Maybe I needed to just give in.

He opened the door finally, obviously ready to yell down to me to come take the plate he was holding. He was a bit taken aback when I was right in front of him, but quickly regained his composure. "What can I do for you this morning?"

"I want to take a shower," I replied, reaching out and taking the plate. "I want to take a shower with my own shower stuff so I don't smell like a dude. And I want some of my own clothes to wear." He raised an eyebrow. "Please," I added.

"Any particular reason?" He asked.

I paused. "I was embarrassed to have Randy near me last night. I'm definitely not at my most attractive."

"He wouldn't care if you smelled like a barnyard animal," Dean replied, arms crossed over his chest and a grin of amusement on his face.

"No," I agreed. "But _I _care. You want me to do this; you want me to behave? I'm trying."

He nodded. "You are. I'll give you that." He hesitated a moment before pulling a cell phone out of his pocket.

"Randy," he said when the other line was picked up. "Cassidy wants me to get her some clothes and girly showering stuff." He paused, listening. "From what I can gather, she wants to look nice for you tonight." Pause. "I know, I know. Very exciting." Dean gave me a big, cheesy grin. I tried not to glare at him. "So should I hit the store, or... Ok. Sounds good. I'll meet you there."

He hung up and turned his attention back to me. "This is going much better than I expected, Cass. I'll commend you for that...even if I am a little disappointed that you elected to listen." He winked at me. I held back the urge to slap him. "I'm meeting Randy over at your old place. We'll pack a bag with a few things for you and then you can have your shower."

I nodded. "All right. Thanks."

"Sure thing. Sit tight, baby girl, and behave yourself."

He shut the door and I heard the lock click into place.

It was a relatively short wait. I ate the breakfast he'd brought down, and nearly the minute I put the empty plate on the table I heard the key in the door.

"Come on up," Dean called. I grabbed my plate and went. He took the plate and went to hand me a plastic shopping bag, pulling back at the last minute. "You going to try to cut my throat if I give you a razor?"

I could feel my brow furrowing. "It's not a straight razor," I replied. "There are three tiny blades that would take me hours to separate out of the thing, and then it would only give you a paper cut and piss you off. I'm not that dumb."

He grinned and winked. "Just what I wanted to hear." He handed me the bag. "Go get all pretty for your man."

He didn't move out of the way. After a second of waiting, I brushed my body past his to get out the door and made a beeline for the shower upstairs. Having been relegated to sit in my own filth for several days, it was the single best shower I had ever experienced.

I took my sweet time getting ready. Anything was better than being stuck in that basement for another full day.

Dean came in as I was combing my hair. "Need help picking out an outfit?" He teased.

"No."

"Are you sure? I made sure I grabbed a few of the...racier...items from your wardrobe, just in case you wanted to go all out."

I suppressed a shudder at the idea of this pervert searching through my lingerie. I had a quick visual of what he might have done and threw that thought out of my head as fast as humanly possible. I didn't want to know.

"There won't be a need for any of those yet," I answered firmly. "Trying doesn't mean fucking. It means trying."

Dean raised his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. "All right, all right. You can't blame me for giving it a shot, now that I know I won't get to have my fun with you after all."

I turned and looked at him slowly. "Does Randy know you talk to me like that?"

He raised an eyebrow, shrugging at the same time. I could tell that he meant it to be a gesture of indifference, but the uncomfortable look on his face said otherwise. "I'm just having a little fun," he answered. "This is just as boring for me as it is for you."

"Yeah, well," I replied, turning back towards the mirror with grim determination, "hopefully you won't have to be here too much longer."


	65. Chapter 65

I paused on my way back downstairs, dressed and made-up to the best of my abilities with the limited supplies Dean had brought back.

I could hardly believe that I was doing this. I didn't want to think that I was giving in. The sooner that I faced the truth, the better off I would be in all of this.

The truth was that I was giving up. I was giving Randy what he wanted – his happy little housewife.

I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again, my eyes falling on the overflowing laundry basket. Hell. I might as well start acting the part.

I called for Dean to open the basement door as I made my way back down to the main floor. He raised an eyebrow as I walked by, hauling the full basket. "Really doing your best to get up out of that basement, aren't you?"

I ignored him, huffing my way down the stairs. To my great irritation, he followed me.

"All right, Cass. What's the game this time?" He asked from behind me as I set the basket down in the laundry room.

"I don't have a game," I snapped, whirling around. "I am so sick of being locked in here. I'm sick of being alone. I am sick to death of your fucking cooking. I'm sick of this, and if the only way to get out of it is to be Randy's bitch, then I will."

To my sick horror, I burst into tears. Dean came to me quickly and wrapped his arms around me. "All right," he said in a low voice. "It's all right."

He pressed me tightly against his chest until my sobs subsided. "Sorry I pushed you," he said.

I shrugged. "It's all right. I'd have asked the same thing, I guess."

I went to pull away from him, but he stopped me. "Is my cooking really that bad?"

I glanced up at him. "It fucking sucks."

He laughed, and after a minute I did too. "I'll stick to sandwiches, then," he replied. I noticed his hands stroking up and down my back.

"Thanks," I said, suddenly uncomfortable. I gently tried to move away again.

"You're all right?" He asked.

I nodded. "I'm ok now."

"It's all going to be fine, you know." He pulled me closer to him, his lips brushing against my forehead.

"Dean," I murmured, squirming away from him. "Randy would take your head off your shoulders."

He finally let me go. "Yeah," he agreed, nodding. "Yeah, he would." He stared at me for another second before shaking his head. "Fucking a," he muttered, stepping out of the room and heading back up the stairs.

I stood completely still for a moment, my head spinning and the faint whisper of an idea shooting through my brain. Shaking it away, I bent down and began to sort through the laundry, automatically checking pockets and dumping forgotten contents onto the counter. Randy would never get rid of that bad habit. I'd resigned myself to it.

I dropped his multi-tool on the counter and stared at it before picking it back up. I hefted the weight in my hand, trying to remember what it had all included. He'd been bragging it up when he first got it. 'Screwdriver, pliers, wire-cutter, knife...' I could hear him listing everything off in my head. Knife. Screwdriver.

Glancing through the room, I picked it back up and slid it into my pocket while I sorted through the rest of the laundry and started the first load. Hurrying back into the main room of the basement, I searched around and finally settled on the bookcase.

Pulling out one of the heavy books on the bottom, I slid the multi-tool behind it and replaced the book, studying it critically to make sure it looked like nothing had been disturbed. The dust had, but I could fix that in short order.

I returned to the laundry room and picked up a dirty towel, bringing it back out to run over the dusty shelves. I was soon moving around the room automatically, dusting every available surface. I was trying hard to not feel guilty, to not even think about the implications of my actions.

Insurance. That was all it was. Insurance. I wasn't planning on using it, but if I had to...it was there. I wasn't being disobedient. I was being smart. Especially with Dean running around acting all weirdly intimate with me.

I kept myself occupied for the rest of the afternoon, listening to Dean bang around upstairs. I had no idea what he was doing, and I didn't really want to know. I waited patiently for Randy to come home, pleased when he made his way down to me immediately after work.

"Hey," he called down the stairs.

"Hey," I called back, folding a shirt of his and dropping it onto my ever-growing pile.

"I was going to do that tonight," he said as he walked towards me, pausing to kiss the top of my head before flinging himself into the chair. "Thanks for saving me."

I gave him a half-smile. "Gave me something to do today. It was a nice change."

"Careful, I'll be bringing laundry down for you every day," he teased.

I chuckled and returned to my folding. "How was your day?" I asked carefully, trying to remember how to behave like a normal, loving partner.

"It was fine. I was glad to hear that you were up and about." He paused. "Now that you're speaking to me again...do you want to talk?"

I froze. I hadn't been expecting this. I looked up at him and saw the fear drawn across his face.

"There's only one thing I want to know," I replied after a moment. "I just want to know when...when he..."

Randy nodded, and I saw his Adam's apple bob up and down. "The night in the woods and the morning after."

"That's all?"

He nodded. "Those were the...first opportunities after he finally agreed to help me with you."

I chewed my lip for a minute. "Is it...is he going to..." I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. "Will it happen again?" I finally blurted out.

He took a deep breath. "I'd like to say no. It really depends on you. If things stay like this...no, it won't happen again. But if things go back to the way they were, I can't promise anything."

I looked down at the towel I was clutching tightly in my hands before I shook myself out of it and began folding it. "Well. That makes my decision easy, doesn't it?" I forced myself to smile at him. "What's for dinner tonight? I'm starving."


	66. Chapter 66

Dean stormed out the front door nearly the minute we walked up the stairs, Randy leading me by the hand.

"He's in a mood today," Randy muttered, glancing at me. "Any ideas why?"

I shrugged uncomfortably. "Probably because I'm actually making him work now instead of sitting in the basement. I think he was enjoying his freedom."

Randy studied me for a minute before shrugging himself. "Eh, whatever. That just means we have the house to ourselves for now."

"Darn," I replied, forcing a smile on my face. "Privacy in our own home? Who would ever want _that_?"

He laughed, grinning at me. "You sound _so_ disappointed."

"Terribly."

He bent down and brushed his lips against my cheek. I tried hard not to stiffen or pull away. I think I succeeded – he squeezed my hand gently before nodding towards the kitchen. "Come on. Let's get you fed."

We had dinner – more takeout; I would be glad to start cooking again – and Randy regaled me with tales of his day. I listened intently, making comments where appropriate, and he seemed very pleased by my behavior.

We washed the dishes together. It felt good to be doing something. I could sense him glancing over at me throughout our work, trying to contain his smile. When he dried the last dish, he threw his cloth down and grabbed my hand.

"Come on," he said, pulling me towards the back door. "Come with me."

"Should I be nervous?" I asked as he unlocked the door, leading me outside. Any additional words were immediately silenced as I was able to see the night sky filled with stars. I inhaled deeply, breathing in fresh air for the first time in days.

Randy wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Nice, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful," I agreed, forcing myself to lean into him. "I'd almost forgotten how it felt to be outside."

He laughed. "Just think...all this is ours." He gestured out over the expanse of the yard. "Does that make you happy?"

I hesitated with my answer. "I know you want me to say yes," I said slowly. "But I still can't believe that I'm here. It'll take some time to accept and to really feel like it's mine, too."

He lightly kissed the top of my head. "You'll get there. You've already come so much further than I ever imagined." He lightly squeezed my shoulder. "I am so happy with you."

His free hand came up under my chin and turned my head towards him. He bent and gently pressed his lips against mine. I reluctantly kissed him back. Some part of me had known that this was going to happen sooner rather than later, but another part of me had hoped that my run of silence had frightened him into moving a bit slower.

He pulled back, still smiling. "Want to head back inside? Cuddle up on the couch and watch something completely mindless on the big TV?"

I forced my lips up. "Sounds perfect."

I was reluctant to return to my prison after a small taste of freedom, but I was smart enough to not verbalize that thought. I recognized that if I wanted to continue to enjoy these little privileges, I'd have to play by his rules.

So I sat beside him, leaning against his chest while he kept his arms around my shoulder. He wanted to watch some sitcom, so I was occasionally jostled as he laughed – but I knew better than to try and move away. Instead I tried to adjust my position so that my head wouldn't get bounced around, bringing my face closer to his. It didn't escape his notice.

He turned his head and pressed his lips against mine again, although it was less...friendly than it had been outside.

Before long, he had abandoned the show and was focused solely on me.

"Honey," he murmured, gently pushing me down onto my back and climbing up on top of me. "I've missed you."

He turned my head and began kissing my neck, tracing his tongue along the lines leading down to my collarbone. I sighed quietly, closing my eyes. His hand slid up to lightly cup my breast as his mouth began to move more insistently.

"I want to fuck you in every square inch of this house," he growled next to my ear, his teeth gripping at my earlobe and tugging lightly. I moaned softly and pressed my hips towards his as he squeezed my breast roughly. "I guess here is as good of a place to start as any."

He began trying to unfasten the button on my jeans, impatiently popping it open and sliding my zipper down. His hand worked into my panties, and I let out a small whimper as he began stroking me. "Feel good, baby?"

"Yes," I replied, a little out of breath. There was no sense in lying. He pulled back and smiled down at me.

"I love you," he whispered, his fingers moving a little faster. "I love you so much."

I moaned quietly, pressing towards him again.

We were so engrossed that we didn't know that we were no longer alone until Dean cleared his throat loudly.

Horrified, I tried to squirm away from Randy and pull my pants up simultaneously. I'm sure I looked graceful.

"I just want to watch TV," Dean said flatly, his voice amused but his eyes showing absolutely no merriment at all. "Sorry to interrupt."

I glanced up at Randy, who looked positively murderous.

"It's all right," I replied simply to break the silence. I sat up and adjusted my bra back into place a little guiltily. "I should get some sleep anyway." I stood up and glanced back at Randy, who kept his eyes trained on Dean.

"Good night, guys," I said a bit awkwardly.

"Night Cass," Randy replied, not sparing a single glance for me. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Sleep well," Dean added, refusing to look away from Randy.

Nobody needed to tell me to get out of the line of fire. I took off for the basement and waited for the bomb to explode.


	67. Chapter 67

"What the _fuck_ is your problem!" Randy screamed. I heard a thud that I presumed was Dean hitting something. I had ducked just inside the door, out of sight but still well within earshot of the action. Reading this situation correctly could mean life or death. That's how I justified my eavesdropping. Really, I just wanted to know what the fuck was going on between these two.

"My problem is that I don't need to walk into my living quarters and see you fingering your fucking girlfriend on the couch!"

"That's not what you told me a few weeks ago," Randy retorted. "If you really don't want to see it, maybe don't take off like a petulant child and not tell me when you're coming back. You know that I'm trying to make things right with Cass. You think I'm going to keep her in the basement forever just so you're comfortable? Grow up."

Dean fell silent for a minute before sighing. "Whatever. Just...hang a tie on the door or something next time."

"No, I will not _hang a tie on the door next time_," Randy snapped. "This is my house, and you are a guest. Don't forget that."

"And don't you forget everything I've done for you," Dean growled, so low that I could barely hear him. "Don't forget that I've been here longer than she has, and I'll be here long after she's gone."

"What does that mean?" Randy asked, his voice full of threat.

"Take from it what you will. Just remember where your bread is buttered, Randy. Just you remember who you owe your loyalty to."

They both fell silent for a second and I heard one set of footsteps going up the stairs. I held my breath for a second before the other set made their way to me. I ran down the stairs hastily, settling myself on the couch seconds before the door opened.

I glanced back to see Randy coming towards me, a sour expression on his face. As I watched, he stripped his shirt up over his head and tossed it on the floor. He paused a minute to take his pants off before joining me on the couch, again shoving me down and climbing on top of me.

"Where were we?" He asked quietly, pressing his lips against my neck.

I lightly took his hand and guided it to my breast. "I think somewhere around here," I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I think that's about right," he answered, the hint of a smile creeping up on his face. He bent down and kissed me roughly, his hands tugging at my shirt to pull it up over my head.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked quietly, his fingers tracing along the waist of my jeans. "Are you sure you're ready?"

I paused. God, I didn't want this. I wasn't ready, and I doubted that I ever would be.

"Cass," Randy murmured, sucking lightly on my neck, "it's ok if you say no."

I took a deep breath. "I'm not...I just..." I trailed off, shaking my head. "I just kissed you for the first time in a week. It's all happening too fast."

He met my eyes, and I could see the flash of anger in them. He laughed bitterly. "Fucking Dean," he said, sitting up. "What a goddamn cockblock that guy is." He glanced back at me. "Am I correct to assume that if you hadn't had a minute to think about it, I would be fucking you right now?"

My first instinct was to tell him that I would have stopped him, but I sensed that he wanted to be angry – and for a change, it wasn't at me. "Probably," I said instead, trying to look abashed. "You always find a way to make me forget whatever doubts I have, at least for a little while."

He smiled slightly at me. "Any chance of that happening now?"

I shook my head. "Too much time to think."

He sighed. "Well goddamn. I guess that's just my bad luck for tonight."

I leaned over and lightly touched my lips to his. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you be sorry, pretty lady. Not your fault." He glanced at me. "Any chance you'll make out with me for a bit and send me to bed frustrated?"

I laughed. "I don't think that's a great idea either."

He nodded. "I figured you'd say as much. Do you want to come upstairs to sleep?"

I grinned and playfully shoved his shoulders. "Always so persistent."

"When it comes to you, yes," he nodded before standing up to stretch. "All right. I'll see you in the morning, sweetheart. Get some rest."

I waited until I was sure he was gone to get undressed. I ended up laying beneath the blankets for a long time, contemplating all that had happened today.

Dean was displeased about my association with Randy. I could only guess that it was because it meant the end of the sick game he'd enjoyed so much. It was obvious that the two men already had a volatile relationship – I imagined that any relationship that included Randy was volatile – but this might push it over the edge into violence.

If I could just position myself correctly...if I could just get this to blow open at the right time, I might be able to get out of here.

I had the beginnings of a plan. It involved so many things that I didn't want to do, so many things that I knew would keep me up at night long after I left this place. But it meant that I would leave this place. In the end, I knew that it was better to live with regrets of what I'd done rather than die with regrets of what I hadn't.

With the decision made, I decided to leave the plotting for tomorrow. It had been one hell of a day, and I was exhausted.

I slept soundly, with no dreams to chase me through the night.


	68. Chapter 68

I woke up the next morning with my head in someone's lap.

The TV was on low, a hand lightly stroking back through my hair. It was soothing and terrifying at the same time.

I glanced up to see Dean staring intently at the screen. "How can you watch this stuff?" He asked, gesturing towards the TV. "It's so...mindless."

I shrugged as best I could with my shoulders against his thighs. "I guess that's what I like about it. My brain usually swims so fast with all of the ideas and information I'm subjected to. It's nice to just not think for a bit."

He laughed. "I guess I can understand that." He finally glanced down at me, his face pensive. I stared up at him, waiting for him to speak again. When he didn't, I elected to be the one to pursue the conversation I was certain he wanted to have.

"So what's going on? Why are you all cuddly this morning?"

He sighed and ran his hand back through my hair. "You know Randy and I had a little spat last night." I nodded. "I'm just not happy with this arrangement any longer. I'm bored out of my mind. The guy had me take administrative leave to be your babysitter. Two months without work." He shook his head. "Usually I'd find a way to keep myself entertained, but being stuck in here...having to watch you...it's maddening. It's leading me to do things I normally wouldn't do."

I paused. What in the hell would this man not do? "Like what?" I pressed gently.

He laughed bitterly before glancing down at me. "It's making me try to pursue something with you that I know would get my head blown off. Not because I think I'm in love with you or because I want to save you. All because of the way you look when you come." He shook his head. "That's how you know it's a real sickness, Cass. I'd give my life just to fuck you. Just to see that expression on your face and know that I'm the one who put it there."

I could feel my eyebrows creeping up my forehead. "That is a sickness," I agreed, sitting up. "Do you think maybe you should leave?"

He smirked. "Nice try. It'll be much easier for you to sneak out with only one of us here. Randy's waited so long to have you, and starting that chase again just might kill him." He shook his head. "I know my place is here. I just need a little more self control."

I pursed my lips in mock thought. "Have you considered just going out and getting another girl? That might satisfy that craving."

He ran his tongue over his teeth. "It might," he conceded.

"Especially if you find the right girl."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have someone in mind?"

I laughed. "You think I'm running a dating service from Randy's basement or something?" I rolled my eyes. "I just mean if you find a girl who's adventurous and...enthusiastic. It might scratch that itch."

"It might," he agreed. "But I know for sure that you would."

I shook my head. "It's not going to happen, Dean. Randy'd take your head off and then play with me for awhile before he took mine. That's just not something I'm willing to experience in the last moments of my life."

He shrugged. "It was worth a shot, you know? Never know unless you ask."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Maybe in a different time, a different place...it could have happened."

He grinned at me. "I'd like to visit that time and place. Randy seems to know what you like, but I bet I would make you forget your own name."

I wanted to roll my eyes again, but instead I gave a nervous laugh, shaking my head slightly. "I can imagine that you would. But we'll just never know for sure."

"Unfortunately," he sighed, hauling himself up off the couch. "I suppose you want breakfast?"

"That'd be good," I agreed, standing up myself. He turned to walk away, but I reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Dean?"

He turned around and I flung myself at him, kissing him intensely. He wound his hands in my hair and crushed his lips back against mine, his tongue slipping gently throughout my mouth.

I pulled back after I felt his hands begin to stroke down my body, noting that his eyes were slightly glazed over. "Please don't tell Randy about that," I said in a low voice. "I just...you're a good friend. You deserve better than what he gives you."

"Thanks," he replied, shaking himself out of his stupor. "I wouldn't dream of it. I like having my head on my shoulders." He slowly pulled back. "See you upstairs."

"Yeah," I agreed. I watched him walk away, running a hand back through his hair as he climbed up the steps. When I heard the door shut behind him, I allowed myself a small smile.

So far, this was working beautifully. I tried not to get too far ahead of myself – there were still a million things that could go wrong. Dean could tell Randy – in fact, that was probably the most likely outcome. Either in a fit of guilt or a fit of anger, he'd mention that I had kissed him, shattering Randy's illusion of me as a good little wife. The death of that illusion might mean my own death. At the very least, it would mean a severe punishment.

There was no way around it – I knew the risks. I was playing with fire, and I could so easily end up getting burned. This was my last chance to back out. If I elected to not move forward now, there was very little that could go wrong. Yes, Randy would be pissed. Yes, he'd take it out on me. But I'd survive. He wouldn't kill me for a kiss. Some of the other things I was considering...he'd kill me without a second thought.

"Cass?" Dean broke into my thoughts. "Let's get a move on."

I took a deep breath. In that split second, I made the decision that I needed to make.

I decided that I was going to do whatever it took to never, ever need to make these kinds of decisions again.

"Just getting changed," I yelled back. "Be up in a minute."


	69. Chapter 69

Dean spent most of the rest of the day quite obviously avoiding me. It wasn't exactly what I'd expected, but I did understand the reaction. He was trying to keep himself under control.

He was upstairs doing...something. I could hear muffled bangs. I doubted that it was anything I really needed to be concerned about, but I still had a nagging worry gnawing at the back of my brain. I tried to distract myself as best I could, amazed that I had run of the house for the first time since my arrival.

I spent my time cleaning, mostly. Randy wasn't the neatest person I'd ever met, and Dean seemed to be in that same vein. When the two of them were otherwise occupied, apparently it got even worse. I washed dishes and counters and eventually floors, working on my hands and knees to clean the caked-on grim.

"Christ," I heard Dean mutter as he stepped over my legs on the way to the fridge. "Do you have to do that right now?"

I glanced up at him, feigning innocence. "Clean the floor? Would you rather I did it when you guys were here to walk all over it?"

He popped the top on a beer, taking a glug and wiping his arm over his mouth. "I mean do you have to do it after we had a discussion about fucking and how good it would be? I walk down here to see you on your hands and knees, your little ass shaking back and forth while you scrub. It's not helping my situation. At all."

I put my hands on my knees and straightened my back. "Better?"

He shook his head. "Gives me an entirely different visual."

I stood up. "Now?"

He paused, pursing his lips. "Now I'm thinking about bending you over the table."

I shook my head, laughing. "So you're saying that it's just me. I could be standing completely still, covered from head to toe, and you'd still be thinking about...that."

He sighed. "Yeah. I guess that's the case." He took another drink. "Well. You might as well carry on as you were. At least you'll give me something to think about tonight."

I forced myself to look as if I was suppressing a smile as I got back on my knees. I made sure to put an extra oomph into my cleaning, rewarded when Dean left the room grumbling angrily. The bangs started up again, much louder than before.

I finished cleaning the kitchen and was contemplating tackling the bathroom when I heard the front door open. I glanced through the doorway and saw Randy punching numbers in on the alarm pad with one hand while he balanced a brown paper bag in the other.

He grinned when he saw me. I smiled back. "You're home early."

He shrugged. "One of the guys owed me an hour." He came towards me, pausing to give me a peck on the lips, before dropping the bag on the kitchen table. He looked around the room appreciatively. "Looks good in here."

"I'm not done yet," I replied, dropping into a chair. "I still need to clean the sink and I want to do the windows. Tomorrow I'm tackling the living room."

He kissed the top of my head. "Just don't work too hard, beautiful. Although it is nice to come home to a house that looks like it belongs in a magazine. You're so good at that kind of stuff."

"One of my many talents," I replied dryly, forcing myself to smile at him.

"Speaking of," he said excitedly, turning back to the bag. "I know you're sick of takeout. I thought we could cook tonight. I picked up a few things – I want to see what you can make with these."

I watched as he pulled out chicken, pasta, some sauce, various vegetables, and a bag of cheese. I contemplated for a minute. "I can work with this," I said thoughtfully.

He grinned. "Good. Put me to work, pretty lady. What can I do?"

I set him up with a knife and a cutting board, chopping vegetables while I started the pasta and cut and sauteed the chicken. I was focused on what I was doing, happy to avoid another night of cold hamburgers.

"Isn't this cute," Dean announced as he walked into the kitchen and went directly for another beer. "Such a sweet picture of a loving couple."

"Hey," Randy greeted him, obviously trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "Staying for dinner?"

"No," he replied promptly. "No. I'm going out tonight." He glanced at me. "I'm probably going to be out all night, in fact – so don't wait up."

Randy raised an eyebrow but obviously didn't rise to Dean's bait. "All right," he replied in a low voice. "Have fun."

"I will." He stalked out of the room, leaving us in silence for several moments.

"I'm done," Randy announced, bringing the cutting board full of vegetables over. "How did I do?"

I smiled. "Looks good, baby." I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Why don't you get settled in with a beer and let me finish this up?"

"That sounds like the best idea I've heard all day," he sighed, heading towards the fridge. He popped the top on his beer, and we heard the front door slam.

I looked back at Randy, who was staring at the door with obvious agitation. "He'll be all right," I tried to assure him.

"Do you know what's going on?"

I sighed, stirring the kitchen. "He's jealous, Ran. It was you and him, and I was in the background. Now it's you and me, and he's in the background. He's having a tough time being second in your life."

"I guess," he replied, taking a sip of his beer. "He didn't seem to be like that when we were dating."

"You guys still had your chance to hang out then. Now because we're trying to rebuild, we're very focused in on each other. He's the odd man out, and he's lonely." I forced myself to look at him reluctantly. "That, and...well..."

He looked half-amused. "Just spit it out, honey. You're so cute when you don't want to say something dirty."

I forced myself to laugh, shaking my head. "We're not meeting his needs. That was one of the arrangements you guys made. Now he's stuck in here, with me – the one woman he can't have and doesn't want – and deprived of any sexual release."

Randy contemplated me for a minute before sighing heavily. "I see your point," he said, taking another drink of his beer. "What should we do about it?"

"I only see two solutions. I don't think either of them are great, but it's what we have to work with. First, let him out every now and again. Let him bring a girl home and get his kicks that way."

"Too dangerous," Randy said immediately. "I don't want to bring anyone else in the house yet, and I can't have him running all over the countryside. What if I get called in for an emergency? I need him here."

I forced an expression of reluctance on my face. "That leaves option two. We could..." I shook my head unhappily. "God. If it stops the tension in the house, if it keeps you two from fighting – we could go back to the original arrangement."

Randy raised an eyebrow. "You'd have sex with me? In front of him?"

I swallowed hard and nodded. There was no need to act here. "I want to be clear – the sex would only be for you and Dean. There isn't any sort of emotional involvement there – it's just fucking. When you and I are ready to be emotionally intimate and ready to make love again, I don't want him to be a part of that."

He sighed heavily, contemplating for a few minutes. "I don't like it."

"Neither do I."

"But if you're sure, and if it keeps him happy – I'd do it. I'll ask him."

I shook my head. "Please don't. He told me all of that in confidence. I know, it sounds silly." I cut off his protest preemptively. "But I don't want him to be afraid to tell me things. He's obviously going to be a part of our lives for a long time. I want to be comfortable around him."

He hesitated for a minute. "It's really important to you?" I nodded. He sighed and shook his head. "All right. So how do you propose we do this?"

I dished out two bowls of pasta and brought them over to the table. "Well," I said. "I think the best way is going to be to convince him that I've managed to piss you off somehow. Make him think it's a matter of revenge and that he's participating in my punishment. That's what gets him off, right?"

"Cass -"

I smiled. "Ran, it's ok. I've survived rough sex before. I've _enjoyed_ rough sex with you before. I'll enjoy it again. You'll know that I'm willing and that I'll enjoy it, and that should be enough to make you enjoy yourself. Right?"

He studied me for a minute before shaking his head. "I don't deserve you. You know that?" He stood up out of his chair and pressed his lips against my temple. "You do your best to keep your boys happy. We're both blessed, even if I'm the only one who knows it."


	70. Chapter 70

He must have asked me at least fifteen times that night if I was sure. Every time, I nearly backed out – but in the end, I went through with it. We talked about how we would do it over bowls of ice cream in the living room. It wasn't hard to see that Randy was getting increasingly excited the more we talked about it. He began going into great detail about what he was going to do, his free hand sliding up and down my thigh.

I wanted to laugh and vomit at the same time. All along, he'd sworn it was for Dean. He could tell himself that, but the truth was staring us both in the face – even if he was too blind to truly see it.

"When do you want to do it?" He asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"You're off tomorrow, right?" He nodded. "Let's do it tomorrow. When he comes in tonight, you can have me locked in the basement. Tell him that I tried to run off while he was gone and that you need to remind me how things are supposed to go. We'll do it from there."

He reached over and lightly stroked his hand through my hair. "You sound so unhappy."

I managed to give him a small smile. "I just want you both to be happy. I hope this works."

He nodded. "It will. And if it doesn't, we'll deal with it then. You're going above and beyond here. I don't want you to worry." He paused, his hand creeping up my thigh again. "Cass," he said quietly, "I don't want our first time after...everything...to be then. Please, let me make love to you tonight."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. "Sweetheart, I understand if you're not ready. I understand that. But I just...I don't feel right about it otherwise. Stay with me tonight. Dean won't be back until the morning; even if he does come in I'll tell him you're downstairs." He leaned over and pressed his lips against my cheek. "Please. Let me do this right."

I bit back an incredulous laugh. _Nothing_ about this was right. Nothing. But I was into the game too deeply to refuse. What the hell. It would be good practice for tomorrow. I turned towards him and nodded, trying to keep my disgust from showing on my face.

He exhaled a sigh of relief and immediately grabbed me to kiss me. He pulled back and stood up, offering his hand. I took it and trailed up the stairs behind him, trying my hardest not to turn and run back to the basement.

This was already harder than I thought. I hadn't anticipated that the physical aspects of this plan would prove so difficult. I thought that I wouldn't be so bothered by this after finding out that my sex life had been used as a perk of being one of my guards, but I still felt sick to my stomach as Randy led me to the bed.

My reluctance must have been obvious. He turned the lights off and I felt a wave of relief flow over me. At least I wouldn't have to look at him while he went about his business.

To his credit, he tried. He tried to make it feel intimate and sweet, not knowing that there would never be that kind of relationship between us again.

He fell asleep with an arm curled tightly around me, and after his breathing had become deep and even I considered running. I wondered how long it would take him to wake up and realize I wasn't there after the alarm sounded. I wondered how far I'd get before he came after me. Mostly, I wondered what would happen after he caught me.

I'd almost decided it was worth the risk when I heard the front door shut and the alarm start its warning beeping. Randy groaned in his sleep and pulled me closer. I heard the buttons being pressed to disarm the alarm before Dean's shuffling steps came up the stairs, pausing briefly in front of our door before continuing down the hall.

The house fell silent for a few moments. I could feel my heart pounding, the adrenaline flowing through my veins as I pulled back the blankets and prepared to slide out from under them. I froze as I heard Dean's footsteps in the hall again. He made his way back downstairs, and after a moment I heard the mumbled sounds of the television come on and realized that I'd lost my chance for tonight.

Resigned to being here to see this horrible, wretched plan through, I rolled away from Randy and tried to put some distance between us.

At least when he was asleep, I didn't have to pretend to like him.


	71. Chapter 71

I must have slept soundly, because when Randy woke me up by slapping me across the face, I was naked and handcuffed to the bed. I didn't remember being either last night.

"Rise and shine," he growled.

I didn't have to pretend to be afraid. This wasn't a part of the plan we'd discussed.

"Randy," I said, my voice shaking, "please."

He shook his head. "There is no please, pretty lady. Not this time. You lied to me. You led me on and let me think that I had any kind of chance with you, and at the first opportunity...you tried to run." He climbed onto the bed with me, kneeling between my thighs. "So now I'm going to remind you of how things are when you don't behave yourself."

He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head up so that I could see Dean sitting beside the bed. He looked both suspicious and uncomfortable, and I had a moment of fear. If he didn't enjoy this, there was no way Randy would want to do it again – and that was what I needed to have happen.

I had only a moment to consider that before he flung me back down on the bed. I glanced up at his face, seeing an amused glint in his eyes. To my astonishment, he winked at me before bending down and burying his teeth in my neck.

I cried out and tried to throw him off of me, but he clamped them down more tightly. I could feel the skin start to break and I stopped struggling – as hard as it was to do so – so that I wouldn't start bleeding. He let up after a minute, his tongue gently lapping at the marks on my neck.

"You always used to like my little love bites," he said in a low voice, stroking his hand down over my breasts to lightly pinch my nipples. "What happened?"

I closed my eyes to stem the tide of tears. "I know," he continued in that same low, falsely intimate voice. "I didn't give you love bites on your neck."

My eyes flew open in time to see him grin at me before he bent and roughly bit my nipple. It hurt like hell, and I let him know it. I abandoned all pretense and began kicking him, yelling at him to stop. He pulled away and lightly licked at my wounded flesh like he had done my neck before sitting up and slapping me again.

"You're not in charge, Cass," he snapped. "So stop fighting me and behave." He bent and bit my other nipple. I inhaled sharply but didn't scream. My eyes filled with tears as the pressure of his teeth became unbearable for a moment before finally letting up. "That's it," he murmured, his fingers working down between my thighs while he swirled his tongue around my nipple. "That's what I need from you."

"Randy, please."

"Shut up." He increased the pressure of his fingers, rubbing me in a circular motion. "You disrespected me last night. You're lucky I'm being this nice." He bent down and kissed me roughly, his free hand squeezing my breast before he pulled away, panting.

"Dean," he said, turning away from me, "grab me the handcuff keys. I have an idea."

I managed to glance over at Dean, who looked less disgruntled than before. He had a slight urgency to his motions as he grabbed the keys from the top of the dresser and handed them to Randy, who promptly uncuffed me.

"You're going to do all the work today," he explained, pulling me up to a seated position before dropping onto his back beside me. "Get me undressed and get to work."

Thankfully, he was only wearing pajama bottoms, which were easy for me to yank off. When he was completely undressed, I hesitated for a minute before he smirked at me and gestured towards his half-erect penis. "Come on, now. You know what I want."

I joined him on the bed, hating every second of this even more than I had hated last night – and that was saying something. I knelt between his thighs, unsurprised when he wound his hands in my hair and pushed my head down.

I took him into my mouth, fighting against the urge to bite him. I had to keep the bigger picture in mind here. This was a means to an end. I tried to tell myself that, tried to keep myself from crying as I had my throat fucked by a man I couldn't even stand to look at.

He yanked my head up off of him and I instinctively turned towards Dean. He tried to pull the interest and enjoyment out of his expression, but there were still traces of it there. It wasn't difficult to tell that he wasn't an unwilling audience.

Randy chuckled low in his throat. "My my, Cassidy. Never took you for an exhibitionist type. Since you're so worried about how Dean's liking it, why don't we adjust ourselves a little bit?"

He spun on the bed so that his legs were on the floor by Dean's, his body draped back over the bed. He patted his hands on his thighs. "Climb up," he instructed. I shakily began to straddle him, facing his upper body. "No," he snapped, pushing me back to the side. "You want to look at Dean? You look at him." His hands roughly gripped my hips and spun me around.

Closing my eyes, I straddled him again. I didn't want to look Dean in the eye, so I stared at his chest. Randy took a hold of his dick in one hand, rubbing the head through my lips before aligning himself and grabbing both of my hips to push me down onto him. He let out a soft groan as I slid to his base, and I finally glanced up at Dean's face.

He bit his lower lip as our eyes met, and even though he took great pains to hide it – it wasn't hard to see that this was having the desired effect. I held his gaze as I slowly moved on Randy, gasping when I felt his fingers begin to lightly play with my clit.

"You're good to me," Randy said behind me, his voice a little breathless, "I'll be good to you."

I rocked on him harder, rewarded when his fingers sped up. I kept my eyes locked on Dean, watching the lust fill his eyes and letting that spur me forward, crying out and shaking as I – miraculously – managed to have an orgasm.

Randy immediately flung me onto the bed, face-down, and climbed on top of me. He yanked my hips up and thrust into me roughly from behind, making me cry out again and grip the sheets tightly. I turned to look at Dean, who was no longer attempting to hide the erection straining against his jeans or the heavy breathing. I watched his eyes wander from where Randy was slamming into me to my swaying breasts and back to my face, taking in every possible sight that he could.

"Are you going to come for me again?" Randy asked, panting. I moaned softly and pressed back against him, getting a firm slap on the ass for my trouble. "That's not an answer. Tell me, Cassidy – yes or no?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"Ask me for it. _Beg_ me for it."

I did. Not because I especially wanted another orgasm, but because of the look in Dean's eyes when I was doing it. He was eating this all up, enjoying every second. I wanted to make this unforgettable for him. I wanted him to have a slow burn and wonder what it would be like if _he_ was the one in Randy's position.

I wanted him, to borrow a phrase, to want me. I wanted him to want me so badly that he'd kill for it if necessary.

Randy thrust deep into me one last time, groaning with pleasure before filling me and collapsing down onto the bed. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, a wide grin on his face. After a brief moment, I lowered my body down beside his.

Dean sat still for several seconds, his tongue worrying over his teeth, before he abruptly stood up and left the room. We heard the door to his room slam shut several seconds later, and then the faint sounds of a woman moaning, followed by a much louder series of strangled cries.

Randy turned towards me, lazily stroking his hand over my back. "Mission accomplished," he said in a low voice, leaning over to kiss me.

I managed to smile and bite back my so-desired reply – 'Not yet.'


	72. Chapter 72

"Sorry about that," Randy said in a low voice, nodding towards my already-bruising nipples. "He had already checked the basement for you this morning. I had to improvise."

I tried to smile. "Maybe don't be so rough next time?"

I thought I saw a hot flash of anger in his eyes, but it vanished quickly. "Of course, pretty lady. But it _did_ get the job done."

"Very effective," I agreed, trying hard not to be sick.

Something must have cued him in to my absolute horror about what I'd just gone through. "Did I scare you?"

"A little bit," I admitted.

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry."

I swallowed hard. "I should get down to the basement," I said, slowly moving away from him. He reached out and grabbed my arms.

"Stay awhile." There was nothing friendly about his tone; it was an outright order.

"Randy, I really...I just need..."

"Shut up," he said flatly, pulling me towards him. "You know how this goes, honey. We fuck and then we're sweet to each other. So come here and stay awhile. Do this right, then you can have all the time in the world to go down there and mope about your plight."

Reluctantly, I wrapped my arms around him. To avoid looking at him, I nestled my face against his neck. He exhaled gently, bringing up a hand to run back through my hair. "Not so hard, was it?" I shook my head, and he bent and kissed the top of my head.

"I want you to remember, Cass – that was your idea, baby. It didn't exactly go according to plan, but you were the driving force behind it. You don't have any right to be upset now, do you hear me?"

I nodded. "You're right," I lied. I needed to keep it together, no matter how disgusting and dirty I felt. I needed this to happen again, as much as I hated the idea. "It just took me off guard. I'm sorry."

He put his hand under my chin and brought my face up to his, lightly kissing me on the lips. "That's better. That's the girl I love."

Of course it was; I was being the girl who blindly agreed with everything he said. That was precisely how Randy liked me.

I snuggled into his chest, mostly to avoid looking at him. After a brief hesitation, his hand began gliding up and down my back. "This was exactly what I wanted," he murmured, pressing his lips to my forehead. "I love you."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I would pay dearly for that.

He gripped me by the hair and yanked my head back so that I would be forced to look at him. "Hey," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I just told you I loved you."

My lips moved, but no sound came out. I just couldn't do this. He rolled his eyes and sighed as if the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders. "Fine," he snapped. "I should have known that I wouldn't be able to convince you to not be a bitch." He shoved me away from his body and sat up, turning his back to me like a petulant child.

He was quiet for several minutes, and I knew things were going to be bad for me when he finally spoke.

"I do..._everything_...for you," he started in a low, contemplative voice. "I put a roof over your head. I provide food and entertainment, put clothes on your back...I even _fuck you_ in front of my _best friend_. It's still not enough for you, is it?" He turned back to look at me, his eyes burning. "It'll _never be enough_."

"Randy -"

He shook his head bitterly. "I should just shoot you in the fuckin' head and be done with it. I'll never be good enough for you."

"That's not true."

"You lying fucking bitch," he growled, turning his whole body back towards me. I watched his fingers flex open and closed. Oh God. Please. "You think I'm not good enough for you, you dumb slut?" His hands wrapped around my throat and began to squeeze. "You'll let me fuck you and let me make you scream my name because I know how to hit the right spots; you'll let me provide for you and bend over fucking backwards for your comfort, but when it comes to loving me...you're above that, aren't you beautiful?"

My hands were working at his, trying to pry his fingers apart so that I could get any kind of air. He laughed. "Just keep fighting, sweetheart," he growled. "It'll be over that much faster."

A wave of panic washed over me, and I began clawing at his hands more fervently. He chuckled low in his throat. "I'm not going to kill you, sweetheart. You're just too entertaining for me. But I'll knock you unconscious and have a little fun."

"P-p-p," I managed to sputter around his hands.

He laughed heartily. "Oh, that's so cute. You're trying to beg! How sweet."

He squeezed his hands harder and black flowers began to bloom across my field of vision. I wouldn't be awake much longer. I wasn't sure if I found this to be a welcome development or a terrifying one. I could wake up in a much worse state than before...or I might not wake up at all.

As I slipped headfirst into the darkness, I realized that I just didn't care anymore.


	73. Chapter 73

In spite of that alarming thought, I was grateful to wake up.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed. I was dressed and in the basement, which made me wonder at first if I'd dreamed the whole thing. The ache in my breasts and neck spoke to the idea that what I'd experienced had been reality.

I sat up slowly, trying to breathe through a throat that felt like it had shards of glass inside it.

Dean was sitting in the chair in the corner, brooding. He glanced up as I began to stir. He stared at me for a brief minute before shaking his head. "You're lucky that Randy doesn't like to play with a girl who doesn't respond. Otherwise, it could have been a lot worse."

"Please," I said, my throat sounding like it was full of shards of glass as well, "don't tell him I'm awake."

He shook his head. "You're safe for now. He's not here." I nodded gratefully and collapsed back against the couch. "Why'd you do it, Cass? Why did you try to run?" I turned to look at him. "If you'd just...if you'd only kept up with the game, he would have trusted you eventually. Why now?"

"Because I knew he'd do this eventually," I replied, gesturing towards my neck. "I knew that he'd snap. He always does. I can't live like this."

Dean ran a hand back through his hair. "I'm not going to help you leave," he said flatly. "You made your own bed on this one. You know how to behave."

"Then tell me how to handle him. Please. You know him better than anyone else in the world. What do I have to do to keep his temper in check?"

He gave an incredulous laugh. "How about you don't try to fucking take off? You're not this stupid. Tell me what's really going on."

I paused. "He raped me last night," I said hollowly. "While you were gone. The whole time...he just kept telling me he loved me. Over all of the times I said no, over all of the times I begged him to stop – he repeated those stupid fucking words. I couldn't take it anymore. I can't take it anymore."

Dean sighed. "Jesus," he shook his head. "He's such a fucking hardhead. I told him to go out and find a girl to help him clean the pipes, but he refused. It never ends well when he's hard-up and a girl tells him no."

I was taken aback. "What do you mean it never ends well?"

He shrugged. "I mean what I said. Do you think you're the first girl I've watched Randy fuck? It was our thing in college. That's how I knew I liked it. We were a little more suave then – Randy didn't quite have the build for brute force, not like he does now. Usually a little GHB in the drink, and the girl would do whatever we needed."

My jaw dropped, and he gave me a sick smile. "He hasn't let me play with you, though. That's how I know he really digs you. Even that night in the bar, the El Dorado...he told me ahead of time that I wasn't allowed to touch you."

My throat had gone dry. "You guys...you were going to..."

Dean shrugged. "He was hoping he'd be able to sweet talk you back into his bed. He didn't want me in the room, necessarily, but he was going to let me watch from the closet. Not nearly as fun, but exciting in its own way. But, yes...we were prepared to take things the other route if you were reluctant."

We both fell quiet for a minute. I never wanted to be touched or seen again by these lunatics. "Then Pete came in," Dean broke the silence. "And you had a reprieve for a few years. Now you're here, living out our dream."

"Your dream?" I asked numbly, glancing over at him.

He gave me a small grin. "We always wanted a girl. A pretty girl that we could share, one who would take care of both of us and be...as adventurous as we needed her to be. You might be doing it begrudgingly, but Randy won't accept anyone but you in the role. I'm just trying to make do with what I've got."

That explained why Randy got all doe-eyed and emotional when he thought I was sacrificing for him and Dean. I was fitting into this twisted little version of a family.

"I really thought for a little while that it was going to be all right," Dean mused. "You seemed to be coming around. Then you pull this little stunt, and now I'm just not so sure. Randy's ferociously mad. He took off to clear his head, and I don't know when he'll be back or what he'll do when he comes back."

"This," I said slowly, "might be the weirdest fucking thing I've ever gone through."

Dean chortled. "Understatement much?" He stood up. "Listen, you have to decide now what you're going to do. There isn't going to be anymore 'someday' or 'trying.' Not after today. You need to be able to say, with conviction, that you're going to be a part of this family...or that you are prepared to die. It's black and white now, Cassidy. All because you couldn't tell that pent-up motherfucker that you loved him. Weird how the little things are what cause us to break, isn't it?"

He stretched lazily, cracking his neck. "I'll leave you be. You have an awful lot to think about."


	74. Chapter 74

I woke up with a gun pressed under my chin. I reluctantly opened my eyes to see Randy standing above me.

"What's it gonna be?" He asked simply.

I swallowed hard. It had been a long few hours by myself. I'd ended up crying myself to sleep, knowing the decision that I was going to make. I didn't want the life they wanted, but I wasn't ready to die.

"I want to live," I replied, trying not to feel like it was a cheesy line in a movie. I felt it with every last fiber of my being. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Randy hesitated a moment before slowly withdrawing the gun. "Good," he said, slipping it back into the holster he'd put around his waist for the occasion. "Get up. Go over to that bookcase and get my multi-tool for me." My eyes widened, and he gave me a hard smile. "Did you really think that I didn't have cameras down here?"

Shaking, I went and retrieved it from the bookcase. I placed it in his outstretched hand, trying to ignore the amusement in his eyes.

"I'm not dumb, Cass. All that bullshit about making sure Dean was happy after you'd planted one on him – I knew what you were after. Dean knew what you were after. Trying to play one of us against the other. It won't work. Ever. Do you understand that now?"

I closed my eyes. "Yes."

"Are you finally prepared to see the light?"

I licked my lips nervously. "Yes."

He was quiet for a minute. "Come here."

I stepped towards him reluctantly, unsurprised when he pulled me into a tight one-armed hug, his other hand resting on the butt of his gun. He pulled back, his hand on my shoulder. "Let me tell you how this is going to be," he said quietly. "You're going to come upstairs with me. We're going to have dinner. When we're done eating and cleaning up the kitchen, you're going to call Mr. Ross and tell him that you've decided not to return to work. Then you and I are going to sit down and go over my...expectations for your behavior. Do you understand?"

I nodded miserably. "Good," he responded firmly. "Give me a kiss." I stood on my toes and brushed my lips against his. He looked slightly irritated, but said nothing about my less-than-enthusiastic attempt at following his instructions.

We went through the night just like he said. We ate in uncomfortable, stifling silence. We washed the dishes. I sat down and called Nathan Ross, apologizing for the late hour and explaining that I just couldn't go back after what had happened with Billy. He was sympathetic, but tried to get me to come back anyway. I refused, all the while fighting the urge to scream to him that something was terribly wrong. The gun that Randy had casually put on the table pointed in my direction while I was on the phone negated any chance in hell I had of that working. So I didn't do it. I said my goodbyes and hung up the phone, freshly unemployed.

Randy nodded approvingly when I was done. "Good. Now," he leaned forward, hands clasped on the table. "I'll explain this to you once, and only once. I'm getting real tired of repeating myself." I nodded in understanding. "You're _my_ girl. Dean isn't allowed to touch you. He knows that, so don't let him tell you he doesn't or that he's heard differently. Unless it comes from _my_ mouth, nothing has changed. Got it?"

I again nodded to show my understanding. "Very good," he said. "Here's how your days are going to go from now on. I'm not going to coddle you any longer. You're going to cook for us. You're going to clean the house. You're going to do all this under direct supervision for the foreseeable future."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment before continuing. "Dean will be allowed in the room when you're in bed with me. I may sometimes allow him a very small amount of participation – nothing overtly sexual; he may hold your hands or legs from time to time. When you finally stop being a bitch and want to make love, he will not be allowed in the room. I'm not completely unreasonable, am I?"

"No," I said quietly.

"Speak up."

"No," I repeated, clearing my throat. "No, you're not being unreasonable."

"Very good." He stared at me for a minute. "We were working on something for you, you know. Something to get you out of that hole in the ground. Now I don't know if you deserve it." I blinked a few times, unable to meet his eyes. "The chance to sleep, unhindered, in a real bed. I think maybe you deserve to be tied down to my bed for the time being instead. Tied down...helpless...at my mercy."

My skin began to crawl uncomfortably at his tone, and I still refused to look at him. He reached out and grabbed my chin, turning my head towards him. "You know, I don't need an audience to fuck you. I've done it plenty of times without one. Tonight just might be one of those nights. What do you say, sweetheart?"

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Instead I closed my eyes. "Whatever you want," I said numbly. "I'll do whatever you want."

He gave a bitter laugh. "It's about fucking time."


	75. Chapter 75

I let the water rain down on my face, washing away the tears that had already formed and that were beginning to form.

In his infinite mercy, Randy allowed me to shower after he was done with me. The water stung the bites on my neck and breasts, but I knew that it was a necessary pain.

There was a loud knock. "Three minutes," Randy called through the door.

"OK," I managed to call back, trying to keep the shuddering, trembling quality of my sadness from bleeding through my voice.

I stopped fooling around and washed as quickly as I could, turning off the water just as the door opened. Randy yanked back the curtain, his expression dark.

"I'm sorry," I said. "My hair just wouldn't rinse clean."

Wordlessly, he handed me a towel. My hands were shaking when I took it from him, and I'm certain he noticed – but he didn't say anything. I wrapped it around me as tightly as I could, trying to shut out the feeling of being laid bare in front of this man – but it still didn't help.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?"

I closed my eyes. "Where do you want me to sleep tonight?"

He gave a short, amused laugh. "You really are learning, pretty lady." He hesitated momentarily, causing me to open my eyes. "I think," he continued slowly once I had met his gaze, "that you're going to sleep with me tonight. It's been too long for me."

"How? I just did last night," I said, my brow furrowing in confusion.

He shrugged. "But I knew what I'd have to do to you today. I knew that things were going to change, and I wasn't sure how. Now, it'll be the first night of the rest of our lives. So cliché, I know – but very accurate in our case. Don't you think?" He reached out and lightly twirled a wet strand of my hair around his finger.

"Yes," I answered numbly.

He nodded towards the bedroom. "Come on, then." I stepped out of the shower, brushing my body past his as I made my way to the bed. He trailed after me, watching me with frank interest.

"What is it?" I asked as gently as I could.

"I'm trying to figure out if you're really done now. If you're really mine."

I met his eyes briefly, but couldn't stand to look at him for long. "You certainly seem beaten down enough," he continued quietly. "You're going along so easily with everything I want. But you've done all that before. How can I know that this time is real?"

"You can't," I replied, shrugging. "Not now. It will take time until you...until I can prove that I'm trustworthy."

"Are you going to do your best to prove that to me?"

"Yes."

"I hope so," he replied, sitting on the bed and staring at me. "I know you don't believe me when I tell you, but baby...I'm tired of this."

I licked my lips. "I know." I wrapped my arms tightly around myself. "I am, too."

"Yeah? What do you want, more than anything in the world?"

I managed to meet his eyes. "I want to be alive," I said simply.

He gave me a half-grin. "That's not a particularly high goal to aim for."

"I've had to...re-evaluate what was important to me over these last few weeks. I just want to live."

The smile slipped off of his face and he regarded me seriously. "You'll want more," he said, trying to assure both of us. "You'll want the life I give you."

"House, husband, children," I said flatly, unsurprised when he nodded. "How does Dean fit into all of that?" His expression darkened, but I couldn't stop myself. "Do I have a kid by you and then one by him? Do we trade off anniversary celebrations? Do our kids call him Uncle Dean? Do I bed hop?"

He stood up, his fists clenched. "Enough, Cass."

"No," I spat. "Tell me. How exactly does this happy life you have planned work for us?"

"It works when you keep your fucking mouth shut and do what I tell you to do," he growled.

I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes. This wasn't going to get me anywhere. "I'm sorry," I said in a low voice. "I'm...very tired. It's no excuse for speaking to you that way, but I hope you can understand where I'm coming from."

He was quiet for so long that I was afraid to open my eyes...but I did eventually. He was still standing in front of me, regarding me coldly. "I know," he said in a low voice, struggling to keep his anger from rising to the surface, "that you're scared right now. You don't know what's going to happen to you or how this is all going to work. You need to trust me. This will all be all right."

I nodded. "OK," I sighed. "I'll try. No. I will. I'll trust you."

He gave me a small smile. "Honey," he said gently, reaching out and gripping my arms, "I know that you have these...notions...about what I want. I don't want you to just blindly agree with me. I wanted you because you weren't an airhead. Everything you ask – it's valid. I can understand why you want to know. But it's not what I'm worried about right now. I want to make it so that we can have that life first. We can figure out the particulars of it when it comes time. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I replied quietly. "Does that mean...will I have input into how it will work?"

He nodded. "Of course you will. It's your life, too. I've only brought you here because I know that this is right. I know this is the life you and I were meant to lead. You're going to see that soon, too." He leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips to mine. "I love you."

I knew that he was feeding me a line of shit. I also knew better than to speak out against it, no matter what he said about not wanting an airhead wife. In spite of that, I still kissed his lips gently and said "I love you too."

He smiled at me, the first genuine smile I'd seen today. "Now," he said happily, "now we're on the right track." He pulled me to him again, kissing me fiercely. "I'm not going to let anything take us off course again. I promise. We're going to see this through to the bitter end."

I couldn't tell him that _that_ was exactly what I was afraid of.


	76. Chapter 76

I woke up alone, unrestrained, in Randy's bed. I could hear the soft murmur of voices traveling upstairs and guessed that jumping out of the window and trying to run off on two broken legs was out of the question. So instead, I swung my feet onto the floor and got dressed.

I hesitated when I was done. I could have stayed up here all day and been perfectly content, but I knew that one of them would come looking for me eventually. I might as well get this over with.

Full of dread, I descended the stairs and made my way towards the kitchen. Randy was dressed in his uniform, scrambling to get everything ready for the day. A blurry-eyed Dean was sitting shirtless at the table with a cup of black coffee and a cigarette.

He ran his eyes over me in a frank appraisal, but not in a sexual way for a change. "You chose life," he said thoughtfully, meeting my eyes. "Good for you." He took a gulp of his coffee while I looked away awkwardly. I just didn't want to deal with him today.

"I'll be home around five," Randy said, sounding distracted as he threw a lid on his travel mug of coffee. "I've gotta hurry, or I'm gonna be late." He paused to brush my cheek with his lips. "Love you."

"Love you too," I replied, forcing a smile on my face. He made the time to grin back at me before hurrying out the door.

I turned towards Dean, who was staring at me with an eyebrow raised. "Don't," I said, heading for the coffee pot myself.

"I didn't say a word, sunshine. I wouldn't anyway. You made the right call."

"Easy for you guys to say," I replied, grabbing a cup out of the cabinet and filling it.

He nodded. "Yeah," he surprised me by saying. "It is. This is what we want. I know it's not what you want, but I think you'll see the benefits in time."

I slammed the mug down on the counter. "What kind of benefits?" I snapped. "Getting fucked by one psychopath while another watches and then runs off to fuck some other woman?"

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It was porn, cutie. I'm not allowed female companionship, remember?"

I could feel my brow furrow. Oddly enough, I was mildly insulted. I'd put on my best show for this fucker. "Why the fuck did you need porn?"

He shrugged. "I didn't, honestly. Randy has a weird thing about me having an orgasm watching you. I put it on so he didn't feel so uncomfortable."

"You're both insane," I said flatly, forcing myself to finally pour my coffee.

"We're a little off," he admitted. "But you're not going to find a man who loves you more than Randy. And because he loves you, I'll move heaven and Earth for you if you ask."

"Yeah? Then let me out of this fucking house."

"OK."

I froze and looked up at him. "What?"

He grinned. "I said OK. Don't get your hopes up; you're not going alone. But I'm supposed to take you shopping today."

I blinked a few times, completely astounded. "For what?" I managed to spit out.

"Clothes, if you need them. Groceries. Stuff for your new bedroom."

I barely let those last words register, incredibly suspicious about all of this."You're not afraid that I'll run off?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I know I can catch you if you try. And I know that you're not that stupid. You know what'll happen to you when I catch you." He paused. "Randy is trying so hard to give you a little latitude. Be a good girl, and things might improve for you."

The realization dawned on me."It's a test, isn't it?"

He nodded, lacing his hands over his stomach. "You've got it."

"Then I don't want to go. I'm not going to participate in these sick little games."

He grinned. "Sweetheart, you don't have a choice. These sick little games keep you alive. You chose life, now you deal with the benefits and consequences of that decision." I opened my mouth, but he raised his hand to stop me. "I know, you haven't seen any benefits yet. But you will. Trust me, all right?"

"Trust you," I laughed bitterly. "You guys rely on this blind trust thing an awful lot."

He stared at me, shrugging. "What's it gonna be, Cass? Are you going to play, or do I call Randy to come back home from work?"

I shook my head, unfathomably angry and yet defeated all the same. "Let me drink my coffee," I said, resigned to this fate. "Then we can go."


	77. Chapter 77

It was exceedingly strange being out of the house at all, never mind relegated to holding tightly to a cart steered by Dean Ambrose as we wandered through the aisles of a big box store several towns away.

I was sure I looked strung-out and weird, but Dean was perfectly content – he acted like this was commonplace for the two of us, instructing me on the contents of our list and checking items off carefully as I placed them in the cart.

There were several times where I nearly begged some passing shopper to help me, but as it was midday on a Tuesday, they were all either elderly or women with small children. No big burly man who could possibly handle Dean.

"That does it for groceries," he said thoughtfully, checking off the last item on our list. "Now you need to go pick out sheets and blankets for your bed."

I nodded to show my understanding, allowing him to lead the way. We passed a display of movies, and something caught my eye – I stopped for a second before mumbling an apology and attempting to continue forward.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Which one did you want?"

"Just something I never had a chance to see," I said, pointing towards it.

He shrugged. "Grab it."

I hesitated. "Are you sure?"

He smiled. "Yes, I'm sure. Look! Your first benefit," he teased. I managed to crack an amused smile while I tossed it in the cart.

For some reason, that put me a little more at ease. After weeks of nothing but terror and the basic necessities required to live, I was being given _something_. It was small, yes, but it was a little extra. It made it somewhat easier to believe Dean when he said that I was going to be treated well.

We finished the rest of our shopping without incident, finally wandering up to the checkout. Dean and I loaded all of our items on the belt. When we were nearly done, he lightly nudged me with his elbow and pointed to the candy display with a mischievous grin.

I did laugh this time before pointing out my favorite out of all the options. "Grab us a soda, too," he said as he threw a couple of candy bars on the belt. "Something to share. Whatever kind you want."

He watched me intently as I walked the few steps away, and I was rewarded with a smile when I came back and put the bottle I'd chosen on the belt.

We paid and left without incident. As we walked out the doors, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and planted a kiss on my temple. "You were perfect," he said happily. "Let's load all this up and get back home. Lots to do when we get there."

We rode back in amiable silence and went about the boring business of unloading and unpacking bags. It all felt so horrifically normal. It was absurd.

"Are you ok?" He asked as we unloaded the bags in the kitchen. "Feeling good after that?"

"I'm...all right," I said slowly, opening a cabinet to put a few cans away. "It's weird," I was able to say after my back was turned. "That all felt so...natural."

"It did," he agreed thoughtfully. "It _was_ normal, for all intents and purposes." He paused. "See, Cass? It's really not going to be that bad."

I inhaled deeply. "Until Randy loses his temper and beats the shit out of me again."

The words hung in the air for a few minutes. "Now that all his secrets are out in the open," Dean finally said, "and now that you've agreed to cooperate, that might not happen."

I looked at him over my shoulder. "You don't believe that."

He met my eyes, and I could see that I was right. He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket.

I returned to putting away the groceries while he chatted with Randy, giving him an update on our outing. He was speaking in glowing terms, quite obviously pleased with my behavior. That meant that I would have a good night tonight.

The rest of the day passed quietly. I was allowed to see my first glimpse of the bedroom they'd been working on – the furniture was mostly put together, which explained the random banging I'd occasionally heard from the basement. We dropped the bags of bedding in there, and Dean promised it'd be done by the end of the week.

"I'll bring you a few paint swatches tomorrow," he said thoughtfully. "What colors do you like?"

"Something happy," I replied, smiling. "Bright, but not blinding."

He looked at me strangely. "Oh yeah. _That's_ a simple answer."

"Yellow," I laughed. "Get me a nice pale yellow."

He nodded. "See now, I can handle that," he replied, grinning. "For as different as you are, you're still a complete woman sometimes."

I shrugged. "Occupational hazard, I guess."

"Fair enough." He paused. "Well. We're done a lot earlier than I expected. Want to crack open a few beers and watch that movie?"

I grinned and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

We made our way down to the living room and I curled up on the couch. Dean brought me my beer before playfully shoving my feet off the couch. "Make room, geez," he complained, plopping down beside me.

"Did you put the DVD in?"

He sighed and hauled himself back up. I took the opportunity to move my feet back into his spot, partially to tease him but mostly to see how he'd react. I was seeing a very different side of him entirely today.

He gave me an exasperated grin as he returned before picking my feet up and sitting down, placing them in his lap. "Acceptable?" He asked.

"I suppose."

We spent the afternoon comfortably, engrossed in our movie until Randy came home. His expression darkened when he saw that my feet were draped over Dean's lap, but he forced his face into smooth lines. "Good day?" He asked.

Dean looked at me, waiting for my answer.

"Good day," I replied, sitting up. "Welcome home."

Randy grinned. "Thanks, beautiful. It's good to be home. Come here."

I hauled myself up off the couch and took the few steps to reach him. He grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, kissing me intensely. I was ninety-percent sure it was for Dean's benefit, to serve as a reminder who, exactly, I belonged to in this strange little relationship.

He pulled back and placed a light kiss on my forehead. "I missed you today," he said in a low voice, stroking his hands down my back.

"Dean took good care of me," I assured him.

"I'm sure he did." It was impossible not to notice the slight note of anger in his voice. "Do you want to come cook dinner with me? Tell me about your day?"

I managed to smile up at him, nodding. Truthfully, I would rather have stayed with Dean. There was an undeniable comfort in spending time with a man who had never beaten the hell out of me. While Dean had committed his own sins, at least I hadn't walked away from him bruised and bloodied. I couldn't say the same for Randy, and as a result, being with him sent an undeniable bolt of fear through my spine.

Still, if I wanted things to keep improving – and to my surprise, I found that I did, quite desperately – I needed to play the game. I needed to keep Randy happy.

Maybe he wouldn't lose his temper like he had before. Maybe we could actually build some kind of a life. I didn't know anything for sure, only that today...today, I'd felt ok. I hadn't been afraid, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe that was a good sign.

Maybe it was all going to be all right.


	78. Chapter 78

Dinner was a quiet affair. Dean kept giving me sidewise glances, but I didn't need that little hint to tell me that Randy was brooding. When he was done, he pushed his plate away and lit up a cigarette.

"So," he said, his eyes moving between us, "Cass was good today, Dean?"

"Yeah," he replied around a mouthful of food. "No incidents to report. Except that she has terrible taste in movies." He winked at me, and I suppressed a smile.

Randy laughed, but it didn't sound at all amused. "Well good," he finally replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I'm glad that worked out." He swung his eyes around to me, watching me for a minute. "Did you have fun?" He finally asked.

I knew that I had to tread lightly here. "It was good to get out of the house," I replied, trying to keep my tone as bland as possible.

"Dean was good company?" He pressed.

I nodded. "Of course," I replied, giving him a careful smile. I could see Dean trying not to smile from the corner of my eye.

Randy smiled at me as well, but his expression was tight. "Great," he answered. "Just great."

We all fell silent for a minute. "Are you guys done?" I asked, standing up and picking up my plate. "I'll get started on the dishes."

Dean shoveled the last few bites into his mouth and dropped his fork on his plate before handing it to me. I leaned over to reach for Randy's, turning my head to smile at him slightly before brushing my lips against his. Some of the anger bled out of his face, and I realized what I'd have to do to soothe his ego.

I went about cleaning up while the boys chatted idly at the table. I waited until Dean went to light up his own post-dinner cigarette before I gently admonished him - "You know, you guys should really smoke outside. The smell is impossible to get out of everything."

Randy glanced at Dean, who shrugged. "You're the boss," he said, tucking his cigarette behind his ear and standing up. "Coming with me?"

"Nah," Randy said. "I'm good for now."

"Suit yourself." Dean walked past me to head out through the garage, winking at me. He wasn't dumb.

"Want some help?" Randy asked the minute the door shut behind Dean.

"If you're so inclined," I replied, shooting him a smile.

He stood up and came over to join me, and I immediately set him to work drying the dishes. "You know," I said after a few minutes of working, "a dishwasher would be nice."

He laughed. "Play your cards right, and maybe I'll see what I can do."

I leaned over and kissed him. "Thank you."

He hesitated. "You're in a good mood."

"Yeah," I replied, getting back to washing. "I was really surprised that you let me go out with Dean today. I was able to see for the first time that this might work. I'm very...optimistic."

"Good." He took the plate from my hand and dried it carefully. "I really didn't expect it to go so well today," he admitted. "I was kind of counting on it not to, actually."

I looked over at him, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. "Are you upset?"

"No, no babe...I'm not upset. I'm just not sure how to take this. I was anticipating that I'd come home to big trouble, and instead everything is calm and...perfect, really. I just need to pull myself out of the notion that trouble's brewing."

I smiled. "I understand." I paused. "What are we doing after we're done?"

"What would you like to do?"

"Well," I said slowly, "you know I had a good time with Dean today. But I'd rather spend some time alone with you, if that's all right." I met his eyes. "It's nice for me to get along with Dean. But the reality is that for this to work, I need to fall in love with you again. I need to spend time with you to do that."

I was worried for a minute that he would realize this was only an attempt at soothing his ego, then he bent down and kissed me fiercely, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me towards him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

He pulled back, smiling, and lightly kissed my forehead. "Upstairs?" He asked, tracing his fingers down my sides.

Shit. I gave him a smile. "I'd love the privacy, but I'm...I don't want to rush."

He shook his head. "Of course not. After the last few days, I doubt I'd be able to anyway." He smiled widely before bending down to kiss me again, proving that his words were an absolute, bald-faced lie.

I was vaguely aware of the door shutting and knew that Dean had returned.

"Oh you crazy kids," he said dryly. "I'll finish the dishes. Go have fun."

That was the only cue Randy needed. He took my hand and led me upstairs, obviously impatient. He shut the bedroom door behind us and began kissing me again immediately, his hands starting at my face and trailing down over my neck and body.

"Ran," I murmured, gently pulling away from him.

He amazed me by closing his eyes and stepping back. "You're right." He stripped his shirt up over his head and flung himself on the bed, patting the space beside him. After a few seconds of hesitation, I joined him. I rested my head on his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist.

He turned on the TV, but I wasn't paying attention to it. I traced my fingertips over the shapes of his tattoos, watching with amusement as his nipples hardened and small goosebumps covered his skin.

"I thought," he said in a low voice, "that agreeing with you would mean you weren't going to tease me."

I looked up at him and smiled. "I'm not teasing you," I replied. He raised an eyebrow, and to prove my point I bent down and lightly flicked his nipple with my tongue. He groaned softly, and I grinned up at him. "_That_ would be teasing you."

"Evil," he answered, shaking his head. "Come here."

He didn't give me a chance to respond, he simply grabbed me and yanked me to him. Before long we were in a happy, tangled mess; Randy's breath was coming in hard pants beside my ear and his hand had slid up my shirt. My legs were clamped tightly around his waist, and even through both of our clothes I could feel that he was hard.

"Cass," he moaned in my ear, pressing tightly against me. "Please."

I put both hands on his head and brought his mouth to mine. He pulled away after a moment and buried his face in my neck, his hand going to his belt.

"No," I said clearly. "Honey, no."

He whimpered in frustration and looked up at me with pleading eyes. "Baby, please. You're driving me insane. I need you."

"Not tonight, ok?" I softly pecked him on the lips.

I expected him to lose his shit. It was kind of what I was counting on, actually. Maybe part of me just wanted to sabotage the good day I'd had. It didn't seem normal or right to be enjoying myself under such circumstances. But a bigger part of me knew that if Randy was allowed to test me, I sure in hell was allowed to test him right back.

And much like he hadn't expected me to pass, I had expected him to fail miserably. ...But he didn't.

With a pained groan, he pulled away from me and dropped down onto the bed beside me. Several quiet, tense moments passed where I wasn't sure if he would climb back on top of me or not. Finally, he reached for the remote and put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me back to rest on his chest.

"What would you like to watch?" He asked gently, his breath still coming out in ragged pants.


	79. Chapter 79

"Rise and shine." The blankets were ripped off of my head. Groaning, I tried to pull them back up. "Come on," Dean continued. "We're painting today."

I rolled onto my back and regarded him with complete and utter disdain. "We don't have paint yet," I muttered, snatching the covers back from his hand and pulling them up to my chin.

"Which is why you need to get up," he replied, pulling the covers away again. "We need to go pick some paint out. Come on. I'll get you a cup of coffee."

"No coffee, sleep-e."

I could hear the amusement in his voice when he spoke again. "You can either drink the coffee I bring you in five minutes or wear it. Your choice, toots."

I stuck my tongue out at him, but threw the covers back. "Fine," I grumbled, sitting up. He smirked at me as he walked out of the room.

The last few days had been oddly peaceful. I'd made sure to keep a bit of distance from Dean, knowing that it would help put Randy at ease. I kept in mind that he'd apparently placed cameras throughout the house, and that certainly helped me curtail any kind of affectionate behavior – even commonplace friendly sorts of actions, like hugging.

It helped that I'd been busy. There was plenty of work to do around the house, both inside and out. Yesterday had been spent mostly clearing brush and other debris from the backyard, which was why I wasn't my usual sunshine-self this morning – I was sore, and I was exhausted. I'd barely made it through washing the dishes before I stumbled down the stairs and passed out on the couch.

Dean interrupted my pained attempts at getting dressed with a mug of coffee. He held it back, an eyebrow raised in question. I rolled my eyes and extended my hand. "I'll drink it. Coffee isn't really my shade."

"How are we feeling today, sunshine?"

"Sore and miserable," I replied, taking a substantial gulp of coffee.

"We should have a reprieve soon. We're making good progress."

I rested my head on the back of the couch. "God I hope so. It feels like all we've been doing is working."

Dean shrugged. "Gotta keep the boss happy. He was telling me last night that he was impressed with everything we've gotten done, but that he doesn't like you being so tired at the end of the day. I think he's hoping for a little hanky-panky soon, between you and me."

"Hanky-panky?" I repeated flatly. "Seriously?"

He laughed. "It's a lot cuter than saying he wants to fuck your brains out. Which he does, in case you were curious. He's even throwing me out of the house tonight in an attempt to romance you."

I groaned before considering this. "Will his romancing include a massage? I could really use one."

"I'll pass along that he's more likely to get some if he gives you a rub down."

I nodded towards the ceiling. "Won't he already know?"

"No sound," Dean replied. "Just picture. Our conversations are somewhat private. Although I do tell him a lot," he added quickly.

I nodded. "I expected that," I admitted.

"If there was ever anything you didn't want me to tell him...you know, you could ask." I glanced over at him curiously. He looked mildly uncomfortable, like he shouldn't be saying this. "I mean, I want us to be friends."

I smiled at him. "We are," I assured him. "But if it's something I can tell you, it's something I should be able to tell him. The only way this will work is if the strongest relationship is between Randy and I."

He considered my words for a minute. "I see your point," he admitted. "Enough jabber. Done with your coffee?"

I finished it quickly, and we went on our second outing – a hardware store, again a few towns away. There was no cart for me to hold onto this time, so I thought I'd be wandering free – a notion disproved when Dean took my hand as we walked through the doors.

"Don't get the wrong idea, now," he teased. "Security measure only."

"Suuure," I nodded mockingly.

"Like I'd want to hold your sweaty paw," he continued, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust.

"You dream about holding my sweaty paw," I laughed, elbowing him in the ribs.

The teasing continued throughout our paint selection process, where Dean kept trying to talk me into a nice, soothing neon green with tangerine-colored trim. I ended up selecting yellow and white, which he dismissed as boring.

I noticed the lady mixing paint stealing glances at us and smiling. I didn't think much of it until she came back with our cans.

"Here you go, folks," she said, sliding them across the counter. "And I've just got to say – you make such a lovely couple. You two just look like you belong together."

I froze for a second before smiling and thanking her. Dean and I continued on our way in silence, and not the usual amiable silence – it was unbearably awkward.

"Why don't you relax this afternoon?" Was the first thing he said to me as we pulled up to the house. "I can get started with the painting. You should take it easy so you're actually awake when Randy comes home."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Uh, Dean?"

"What?"

"Why did what that lady said upset you so much?"

He finally looked over at me, staring at me for a few minutes before answering. "It just reminded me that I shouldn't get too close to you. You're Randy's."

I hesitated. "That's not what you want." Unabashed panic filled his eyes, and the absolute truth of what I'd said dawned on me. It wasn't what I meant, but in that moment I knew I was right. "It's not the arrangement you guys agreed on," I clarified. "So why are you going along with it?"

He worried his tongue over his teeth. "Did Randy ever tell you how we met?" He finally asked.

"No."

"You should ask him about that sometime. Then I think you'll understand why I'd give up anything for him." He ran his eyes over me. "Anything and everything."

Without another word, he unbuckled my seat belt and pointed towards the door. Sensing that he wanted to be left alone, I went into the house without protest.


	80. Chapter 80

"More wine?" Randy asked, reaching for my glass before I could actually agree.

He was trying to get me drunk. Luckily, I was receptive to the idea – it would make the night that much more bearable, I figured.

My afternoon had been quiet. Dean had gone upstairs to paint without me, and I didn't try to interrupt. He'd made his stance clear, and I wasn't going to push myself on him. I spent the afternoon idly cleaning up downstairs instead.

Eventually, he came down with splotches of paint covering him in various places. "Go take a look," he said. "Let me know what you think. I'm gonna take a shower, then you probably should too. Throw on some make-up while you're at it. Randy wants tonight to be special for you guys."

The room looked great. I wondered briefly how many nights I'd actually be sleeping in there before Randy decided that I needed to be close to him again.

"Cass?" He broke into my thoughts. "Earth to Cassidy."

I smiled at him and took the full glass. "Sorry."

"You're far away tonight," he replied, sitting back and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Something you want to talk about?"

I'd been wondering how to bring this up. "Yes, actually. I wanted to know more about you and Dean."

His eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "I was thinking about it today – Dean knows everything about our relationship, and you know everything about my relationship with Dean. I mean, you're the reason I even know Dean at all. But I don't know anything about you guys. I thought that maybe you could share some of that with me, if you were so inclined."

"Why do you want to know?"

I knew better than to tell him the truth about how the whole thing had come up. I elected to go for the short version of the story. "He just mentioned today that he'd do anything for you, and I realized that I had no idea why. You don't have to tell me, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask."

He sighed for a moment, contemplating. "No. It's probably a good thing for you to know," he finally answered. "I've known Dean for a really long time – since we were probably about twelve? I think? Anyway," he shook his head, "he didn't have the greatest home life. He was in foster care, actually. When I found out that he wasn't being taken care of, I convinced my mom and dad to take him in. We pretty much grew up together, lived like brothers."

I smiled at him. "That was really sweet of you."

He shrugged. "I grew up with good parents. I knew what was right and what was wrong. Dean didn't have that, and I could just see that my friend was going to end up in a bad place if I didn't do something. I like to think any reasonable person would have done the same."

I leaned over and lightly brushed his cheek with my lips. "Yes, but it took a lot of courage for a kid to do that. Don't discredit yourself."

He managed a small smile, turning his head and lightly pressing his lips against mine. "Are we done talking about Dean now?"

"Yes," I assured him. "What would you like to talk about instead?"

"I," he said slowly, "want to talk about how beautiful you look tonight." He leaned towards me and dotted soft kisses along my neck.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to seduce me," I teased.

"Perish the thought," he murmured against my skin, plucking my glass out of my hand and setting it on the table. "Wine, candles, and music – I mean, that's just a normal Thursday in this house."

"Ah, so the last few Thursdays have been out of the norm?"

"Mmmhmm," he replied before beginning to trace his tongue over the line of my neck. My physical response was immediate and intense, and I found myself reaching for him without conscious thought. "But now we'll be getting back on track," he murmured, bringing his lips up to my earlobe as he wrapped his other arm around my back.

I turned my head and gently kissed the corner of his mouth. "Why don't we take the rest of this bottle upstairs?" I asked, rewarded when he grinned widely.

"I think that's the best idea I've heard in a long time." He stood and offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet. I was slightly unsteady, and I was glad – the four glasses of wine I'd consumed were having their desired effect, and I'd be able to do this tonight.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you need more wine?"

"More wine is never a bad thing," I replied, smiling at him.

He rolled his eyes, but he still managed to look amused. "Go upstairs and get settled in. I'm going to blow out these candles and lock up."

I followed his instructions, suddenly nervous. I contemplated getting undressed, but I knew that he would want to be the one to do that. After several seconds of wild indecision, I simply stretched out on the bed, propping myself up on one elbow.

Randy's expression when he entered the room told me that I'd made a wise decision. "Cassidy," he said in a low voice, "I wanted to take it slow with you tonight, but I don't think -"

"So don't think," I foolishly chose to interrupt him – something I wouldn't have done had I not been drinking. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind all that much. "Let's just see what happens."

I wasn't dumb. I knew what was going to happen. He knew what was going to happen, as he was the one who had planned this whole evening around getting laid. I was just grateful for the alcohol that made me mentally fuzzy enough to enjoy him on a physical level.

While he was thrusting away on top of me, my thoughts, strangely, turned to Dean. I wondered where he was tonight. Drinking alone in some dive? I couldn't picture him at a coffee shop. I could easily picture him in some girl's apartment, and that thought felt strange to me.

Randy interrupted my thoughts by grabbing me by the hair and yanking my face to his, kissing me roughly. "Cass," he groaned in my ear. "Baby, I love you."

I wrapped my arms tightly around him. "I love you too," I lied.

He buried his face in my neck, his body trembling against mine with the effort of holding his orgasm back.

"You're," he panted, "you are all I've ever wanted."

"And you're everything I need," I murmured, pressing my hips towards him. "I'm yours, love. Now and forever."

I had no idea what possibly possessed me to say those words at that moment, but it seemed to be what he wanted to hear. He finally let go, shuddering and moaning softly while he filled me with his orgasm.

After several quiet seconds, he pulled back and looked at me intently. "Did you mean it?"

I reached up and stroked his face. "Why would I say something I didn't mean?"

His shoulders fell in complete and utter relief. "Thank God," he murmured, bending to cover my face in kisses. "Thank God you've finally come around."


	81. Chapter 81

My head was a foggy, muddled mess when I woke up several hours later. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was only three a.m., and yet I was alone in bed.

I barely remembered what had happened after Randy finished. I guessed that I had probably passed out, and I found myself hoping that I hadn't said or done anything else that could be considered absolutely fucking idiotic.

Before I could continue beating myself up – and thus making my headache infinitely worse – I stumbled out of bed and made my way into the bathroom. I drank several handfuls of water from the faucet before returning to the bedroom and finding my clothes.

I made my way downstairs, finally hearing the murmur of voices from the kitchen when I reached the landing. I probably should have listened to what they were saying, but I needed an aspirin badly enough that I barged right in.

"Hey guys," I greeted them, stepping towards the window sill over the sink where Randy kept all the pills. "Don't mind me. Just need...ah." I grabbed the bottle and shook several pills out, cramming them in my mouth before bending to drink from the faucet to wash them down.

"You all right?" Randy asked.

I nodded, and abruptly stopped. Even that hurt. "Too much wine," I explained, my voice obviously gruff. I glanced over at the table. "Late night powwow?"

Randy shrugged, a small smile on his face. "You were tossing and turning. Ended up kicking me out of bed. Dean got home about an hour ago. We've just been shooting the shit."

"Great. I'll leave you to it." I walked back out, not wanting to deal with either of them with this nasty hangover. I stopped at the basement door, ready to go collapse on the couch for the next twelve hours of my life.

"Cass," Randy said as I rattled the locked door handle. "Just go back to my room. I'll be up in a little bit."

I forced a smile on my face and marched back up the stairs, falling into Randy's bed and praying I'd be asleep before he came back.

No such luck.

"Next week," he said quietly, climbing into the bed behind me and wrapping an arm tight around my torso, "maybe not so much wine."

I forced a small laugh out, even with the unabashed panic that started running through my body. Next week? Having to do this sober? What a miserable thought.

I covered his hand with mine. "I'll be all right," I assured him.

He gently kissed my neck. "I know you will. Just a hangover. But...it was disappointing to have you pass out so quickly. I wanted you again." He slid his hand up and lightly squeezed my breast. "And I'm pretty sure that I would have wanted you again in the morning," he murmured against my skin, kissing my neck again.

My stomach started churning uncomfortably. "We have the rest of our lives," I assured him.

"Mmm," he agreed, and I could feel him smiling. "I love hearing you say that." He moved his hand up to brush my hair out of my face. "I love you."

That pushed it over the edge. "Oh God," I mumbled, bolting out of bed and racing for the bathroom as my stomach had a series of painful spasms.

I was spitting out the last bits of grossness, tears running down my face involuntarily, when Randy reached the door. "You ok?"

I sniffled, nodding. "Yeah. Just...wine," I said lamely, closing the lid and flushing before carefully standing up to rinse my face and mouth.

"Well come on back to bed when you're done. I'll let you get some sleep."

He was clearly unhappy with my stomach's rebellion, but I couldn't bring myself to give a single flying fuck about that. If anything was going to happen as a result, he would wait until I was sober. He'd want this particular lesson to stick.

I waited a few minutes to make sure I wasn't going to throw up again before I made my way back to the bed. We both lie there in total silence for several long minutes.

"You intended to get drunk tonight, didn't you?" He asked in a flat voice.

I sighed. "No, hon, I didn't. You brought me home some good wine. I'd been working hard all week. I just got carried away."

"Prove it."

"What do you mean?"

"Let me fuck you sober."

I groaned before I really considered the implications of such an action. "Ran, I just puked my guts out. Honey...now is _so_ not the time."

"So I have to suffer for your bad decisions? How is that fair?"

"You already got laid once tonight; stop being an asshole."

He fell quiet, and I began mentally cursing myself out. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, turning my body to face his. "I just...really...do not feel well."

He stared at me for several moments, his jaw set in hard lines. "You get one," he finally said, his voice deceptively calm. "That's it. You remember the next time you want to argue something with me, that you already used your one pass because you couldn't control yourself around a bottle of wine." He paused, and I felt dread fill me. "Now get the fuck out of my bed."


	82. Chapter 82

I didn't even bother arguing or trying to smooth this situation over. I'd been mentally berating myself ever since I'd told Randy that I was his – words I didn't believe coming out of my drunken mouth – and I'd half-expected that there would be a situation because of this sooner rather than later.

I stormed down the stairs, intending to head to the basement – which was still locked.

Well then. Tonight just wasn't my night.

I went into the living room and flung myself down on the couch there, attempting to get comfortable with no pillows or blankets.

I didn't realize I wasn't alone until Dean spoke.

"Drunk mouth get you into trouble?"

I froze for a moment before sitting up and attempting to locate him. I eventually found a man-like shape sitting in one of the easy chairs. "What are you doing sitting alone in the dark?"

"You first."

I sighed. "Yes. Drunk mouth got me in trouble, drunk stomach decided to pile on and make it worse. Your turn."

He was quiet for a few seconds. "I just couldn't sleep," he finally said. "Didn't want to wake anyone up with lights and TV, didn't want to lay alone in bed. So here I am."

"Where did you go tonight?"

The question surprised both of us, I think. "I went to a movie," he replied slowly.

"By yourself?"

"No, with a clown car full of people," he snapped. "Yes, by myself."

"Touchy touchy," I muttered, closing my eyes.

"Yeah, I am touchy. You just fucking wrecked shit. Again."

"I wrecked it for me, not you. So stop your bitching. I'm the one who gets my ass kicked in the end."

He hesitated a few seconds, and I heard the chair squeak as he stood up. "You really don't fucking get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"When he's miserable, we all suffer. So thanks, Cass. You just did a bang-up job assuring that I'm going to have a lousy fucking week. All because you decided to get drunk and act like a fucking asshole. Hope it was worth it."

I could hear his footsteps retreating. I wanted to yell out after him, but I truly didn't have any kind of response to that statement.

I flung myself back down on the couch, trying hard not to feel sorry for myself. I had put myself in this situation, and pitying myself was only a waste of time. I needed to find a way to fix it, or at least put a patch over it until I could fix it.

As I sat there contemplating all that had happened, by far the worst occurrence of the night came to pass – I started to sober up.

With the sobering up process came the realization of the imminent danger I found myself in. Not only had I managed to piss off Randy, but I'd pissed off my only ally in the house as well. I fought against the urge to simply break down in pathetic tears. They'd do me no good.

The sun had started to rise, a faint gray tone filling the room. I heard someone stirring upstairs and decided to at least try to make things right with whoever it was.

I crept up the stairs and managed to catch Randy just as he was climbing back into bed.

"What?" He snapped, pulling the blankets up to his chest.

"I..." I cleared my throat. "I wanted to come and say that I am so sorry for ruining our night."

He stared at me for a minute before sighing and patting the bed beside him. "Come here."

I still wasn't sure what to expect as I crossed the room and gingerly sat on the bed.

"Are you sober?"

"Yes."

"Then talk to me." He gently pushed on my shoulders, having my lie beside him.

I swallowed hard, meeting his eyes and shrugging. "I feel like a real jerk," I admitted, hearing the shaky quality to my voice. "I just...everything has been so good. I wanted to let loose and celebrate, and I got carried away."

He was quiet for a moment. "You're happy?"

"I am," I confirmed.

"You didn't need to be drunk to have sex with me?"

"No," I lied. "No, that wasn't the case."

He licked his lips. "Prove it."

I'd expected this, honestly, but part of me held out hope that he'd simply accept my apology and let me get some sleep.

I slid under the blankets and pressed my body against his, lightly kissing his lips and trailing down to his neck. He let out a happy sigh, stroking a hand back through my hair.

It didn't take long for him to tire of my slightly-passive seduction, pushing me on my back and climbing on top of me. I wriggled out of my pants and panties, spreading my thighs. He ran a finger gently through my lips, making sure that I was wet enough for him. Apparently he was satisfied by what he found, because he pulled his hand back and plunged inside of me.

He was rough, obviously unconcerned with my comfort. I realized that this was my penance, and if this was all that was going to happen to me – fantastic. I wrapped my legs around him tightly and pressed my hips up, unsurprised when he growled and thrust into me harder.

His lips found my neck, his teeth lightly biting my skin. I arched my back and moaned softly, running my hands down his back, digging my fingernails in. "Right there," I whispered urgently. "God, right there."

"Yeah?" He murmured, punctuating his question by thrusting deeply. "Feel good?"

I turned my head and kissed him in response, unsurprised when he picked up his pace. I was partially-relieved, thinking that it meant he would be done soon.

I was wrong. He gripped me tightly and rolled me on top of him, barely missing a beat as he continued thrusting up into me. "I," he panted, "love watching you ride me."

I elected to give him a show, then. I moved as quickly as I could, rolling my hips and thrusting my breasts out, tossing my head back and letting my hair flow down my back.

Randy allowed me to move at that pace for a few minutes before gripping a handful of my hair and bringing my head down to his. "Slow, baby," he murmured. "Slow. We have time."

I tried to smile, and covered the fact that I wasn't able to quite get there by kissing him. We had sex in that falsely intimate way for entirely too long before he grew impatient and threw me down on my stomach.

Mercifully, when he pulled my hips up and thrust into me from behind, I realized that he was finally going to push towards completion. I did everything I could to hurry that along, rewarded when he began moaning quietly, the speed of his thrusts increasing.

"Cass," he gasped, pulling me back against him by my hips. I could feel him throbbing inside of me, pulsating wildly and filling me.

We stayed in that position for a few moments before Randy pulled away from me and I was able to lower myself onto the bed.

He collapsed beside me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I watched him quietly as he regained his breath. He finally turned to look at me, simply staring for a moment before putting an arm out and pulling me towards him. I rested my head on his chest, listening as his heart beat slowed down to its normal pace.

"I forgive you," he murmured, pressing his lips against my forehead. "Just don't _ever _do that again."


	83. Chapter 83

Thankfully, I was able to sleep after that.

I woke up briefly to the low murmur of voices, feeling Randy slide out of the bed beside me. I opened my eyes to see him pulling on his pants. I glanced towards the door to see Dean standing there, his expression unreadable as he studied me in the bed.

I met his eyes for a second before looking away, closing my eyes again. Randy reached out and smoothed my hair back from my face. "Stay here and sleep, beautiful," he said in a low voice. "Dean and I have some stuff to go take care of in the yard."

I yawned. "Ok," I replied drowsily. "Have fun."

He hesitated a moment, and I wasn't sure what he was waiting for. "I love you," he finally said, a slight edge to his voice.

I reached out and covered his hand with mine, squeezing gently. "Love you, babe."

He let me hold his hand for a few seconds before slowly pulling away.

I lost track of the world for a few hours, and I woke up feeling infinitely better for it. I yawned and stretched, listening to the stillness of the house. I was alone and unrestrained for the first time since I'd come here.

Things were actually improving. I was certain that if I tried to leave, the alarm would still sound – but at least I was being afforded a small measure of freedom.

Sliding out of bed, I made my way down to the kitchen and began idly throwing together something to eat. I was interrupted halfway through when a sweaty, dirty Dean came in. He brushed past me angrily, pointedly ignoring my presence.

"Hey...?" I greeted him uncertainly.

He glanced at me, his eyes hard, before looking away again and going about the business of washing his hands.

I sighed. "What?" My voice was a little harsher than I intended, and his eyes reflected that. "What did I do now?"

He sighed, turning off the water and shaking his hands off in the sink. "Nothing," he muttered.

"It's obviously something, so spit it out."

He laughed bitterly. "Went and whored yourself out this morning, huh?"

My brow furrowed. "I did it because you had a bitch fit about having a bad week!" I exploded. "I did it so that you didn't suffer, and you're still pissed off at me? What the fuck do you_ want_ from me, Dean?"

His shoulders dropped and the expression fell off his face. "Nothing. Just...forget it, all right?" He patted me on the shoulder as he walked by. "It worked. He's in a good mood. So...thanks."

He made his way upstairs, and I heard the shower start running. They must have been done for the day.

I tried to shake off the weirdness of his behavior, but I was still seething. I'd done nothing but try to help, and he was still giving me grief. What did I have to do to try and keep both of these guys happy? It seemed like the moment I had one settled, the other one went off the rails.

Randy stepped inside himself, pressing his lips against my temple. "Smells delicious," he said happily, going to the sink himself. "You going to share?"

I forced myself to smile. "I could be persuaded."

"Mmm, and what would that take?" He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck many times in rapid succession before reaching to take the spoon out of my hand and stealing some of the vegetables I was sauteing.

"Hot hot hot," he mumbled, exhaling and trying to blow the steam out of his mouth.

"That's what you get for trying to sneak food," I replied, chuckling.

He dropped back and took a seat at the kitchen table. "I was thinking about what you said this morning," he said thoughtfully. "About celebrating."

I froze for a moment before trying to continue on as naturally as I could. "Oh?"

"I think you're right. I think that we should celebrate."

I turned towards him, and he shrugged, smiling. "It _has_ been a good week. You were right about that. I can't blame you for wanting to...let loose a bit. I wish you'd chosen a better time, but I can understand why it happened – and I appreciate you coming to me to make things right. So we're going to celebrate tonight."

I hesitated, and I watched the smile slowly drop from his face. "Celebrate...how?"

The trepidation in my voice was obvious. He laughed. "Nothing terrifying, I promise. Bonfire, pizza, beer, and friends."

My eyes widened. "Friends?"

"Seth, Roman, and their ladies are coming over. While Seth and Roman are...aware...of our situation here, I do still expect you to be on your best behavior." It was impossible to ignore the warning tone in his voice.

I licked my lips. "Of course." I was shocked that this was happening. Before I could stop myself, I ran over to him and flung my arms around his neck. "Thank you," I added happily, planting a kiss square on his mouth.

He grinned widely. "You're welcome, baby. Everyone's coming around seven. In the meantime..." He ran his hands down over my sides. "Let's have a quick bite to eat, get cleaned up, and hang out for a bit." He leaned forward and pressed his lips against my neck.

"Tonight's going to be great," he murmured against my skin, his hands stroking down my back. "I just know it."


	84. Chapter 84

I was nervous in the moments before everyone arrived.

Randy was keeping a watchful eye on me as he started and stoked up the fire. Dean, on the other hand, hung back scowling. He'd opened a beer already and was drinking it quickly.

I settled into one of the chairs they had put out while they were working this afternoon, wrapping my arms around my chest to guard against the bite that was already in the evening air. Randy had graciously given me one of his sweatshirts, and it hung on me comically.

I caught Dean glancing my direction several times, but I elected to ignore him. I had no idea what his problem was, and honestly – I was still irritated at his irrational annoyance with me.

Thankfully, this awkwardness wouldn't last long. Our yard was suddenly filled with people; happy, smiling people who gave me hugs and asked me how my trip to St. Louis had been.

I noticed Randy watching me closely as I told Seth's girlfriend that it had been wonderful, a welcome distraction from what had happened here.

"Well, I know that Randy missed you," she said with a smile.

"Don't you go telling her stories, now," Randy replied, wagging a finger teasingly as he walked up to join us. He threw an arm around my shoulder. "I was just fine. Brave. Manly."

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "Suuure you were," I teased, elbowing him in the ribs lightly. He shot me a quick reproachful look before smiling back.

I lapsed into a fearful silence after that, simply observing everyone and interacting only when spoken to directly. Nobody really noticed my silence – or if they did, they didn't comment on it. Everyone was focused on their own amusement. I tried to keep myself relaxed and in as natural a state as possible, but I could still sense Randy growing agitated with me.

Trying to get a break from the tension, I collected the empty beer bottles and brought them inside.

I wasn't at all surprised when I heard the door to the kitchen shut quietly moments later. I waited for the inevitable – a tight grip on my arm, a hand winding through my hair to yank my head back – but it didn't come.

"It seems like you're enjoying yourself about as much as I am," Dean said instead, sidling up to the counter beside me and leaning his back against it. "I told Randy this was a stupid idea."

"It wasn't stupid," I replied, shrugging. "I just...I have no idea how to behave around these people."

He glanced over at me. "I guess I can understand that. A situation like ours...tends to change your world view. Makes it tough to indulge the pettiness of their lives."

I studied him for a minute. "You've had too much to drink," I finally decided, turning back to the sink.

"Really?" He pushed himself off the counter. "I don't think I've had _nearly_ enough."

"What is your _problem_ today?" I snapped, dropping the last bottle and rounding on him. "What exactly is making your poor little heart ache?"

He stared at me. "Nothing," he finally muttered. "Just forget it."

"No. That's the second time today you've told me to forget it, and _you_ obviously haven't forgotten it. So what, Dean? What is it?"

He hesitated for a minute. "Do you remember the last time we were alone in a kitchen at a party?"

I froze, my heart suddenly pounding hard against my ribs. He took a step towards me, cautiously putting a hand on my face. "Do you think he would kick my ass now?"

I didn't have a chance to answer; he bent down and pressed his lips against mine. It was nothing like our previous kisses had been – this one was soft, sweet. I hadn't been kissed that gently in a very long time.

"Cass," he said gently as he pulled away, "if you can't tell what my problem is, you really are oblivious."

Without another word, he went to the fridge and grabbed another beer, heading back outside. He brushed past Randy, who was coming in as he was leaving.

He'd opened his mouth to say something, but it died on his lips as he caught a glimpse of my face. "Everything ok?" He asked instead.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to smile. "Dean's just drunk and being a bit obnoxious. Made a snide remark about me being drunk and mouthy last night. Nothing major." I was surprised by how easily this lie rolled from my lips, and how readily Randy accepted it.

"Want me to talk to him?"

"No, hon. No need. I think it wouldn't stick right now anyway." I turned back to the sink and continued washing out bottles, suddenly grateful that our friends enjoyed imbibing.

"Are you having fun? You've been quiet."

I hesitated. "I'm just...afraid to say the wrong thing," I replied carefully. "It seems easier to just let others take the lead."

His fingers trailed lightly down my back, and I realized that he'd had his fair share of alcohol tonight as well.

"Cassidy," he said in a low voice, the threat of warning already threaded into that single word. "If this has any chance of working, you need to be better. You can't spend the night silent, in the background, then disappear to clean up when the party's still going. You're a hostess, and how you behave reflects directly back on me. And," he gripped my hair suddenly, yanking my head back, "I really hate the reflection you're casting at the moment."

I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I'll do better."

"You see that you do," he snapped, shoving my head forward again. "I expect you out there in five minutes. I expect you to smile and hold a conversation like a normal fucking human being. And," he stepped away from me towards the door, "I expect you to bring me a beer."


	85. Chapter 85

I took a few minutes to compose myself before I went to the fridge and grabbed Randy's beer. I held it for a few moments, inexplicable tears filling my eyes, before I threw it down on the floor.

The glass shattered with a deeply satisfying sound, beer and foam spraying everywhere. I hung my head, trying to keep from crying.

I heard hesitant footsteps and felt a hand on my shoulder. "Get him a fresh one and go outside. I'll take care of this."

I spun around and buried my face in Dean's chest. "I hate him," I said in a shuddering voice.

He sighed. "I know." He cautiously brought a hand up and stroked it back through my hair. "Just get through tonight, ok? Things will -"

"Don't you dare tell me things will get better. We know that's a lie."

"Cass," he murmured, squeezing me tightly...but he didn't continue that infuriating thought. "Come on, girl. You've got to get out there and be your best." He pulled back from me slightly, pressing his lips against my forehead. He reached behind me and grabbed two more bottles. "Here. You'll need one, too." He nodded towards the door. "Go on."

I went out, pausing in the garage to wipe my face and take a deep, shaky breath. I just wanted this suddenly hellacious night to be over. I took another deep breath and twisted the tops off of both bottles, taking several gulps out of one of the bottles. I forced a smile on my face and opened the door to go outside.

I stayed by Randy's side, trying to keep that ridiculous smile on my face and converse with people I no longer had anything in common with about topics I cared nothing for.

Dean came out about fifteen minutes later. I noticed that he had switched to soda and was keeping a watchful eye on me.

"Need another?" He asked, swooping by us and taking my empty from my hand. I nodded gratefully.

"Get me one, too," Randy added, absently stroking his hand over my shoulder while he conversed with Seth.

Dean kept us plied with drinks all night. After a few hours or so, I wasn't feeling any pain. Smiling seemed to be a bit easier; the conversations were easier to participate in. The more Randy drank, the more he was obviously pleased by my performance. So much so that I began dreading what was going to happen when we were alone, and began to drink even more.

Eventually, our guests began to gradually make their way towards the door. I said my goodbyes without lingering and immediately made my way upstairs, undressing as I went. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

I was unsurprised when Randy joined me after a few moments, Dean trailing behind him with a sour expression. He joined me on the bed, grabbing me roughly by the hair and slamming his lips against mine.

I shot an unhappy look to Dean as Randy kissed down my neck, and he simply shrugged, a helpless expression on his face. I realized that he didn't want to be there any more than I did, and I wondered why in the hell the two of us kept up this charade.

Randy grabbed my hand and shoved it down towards his crotch, biting my neck. I was partially relieved, and partially worried, when he wasn't getting hard.

He sighed, flopping down on his back. "Dean," he said, unbuckling his belt and sliding his jeans down his thighs. "C'mere." He patted the bed beside him, yanking his shirt up over his head. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled my face up to his.

I kept my eyes open while Dean slid onto the bed beside him, his face dark. I was shocked to see Randy grab him by the hair and shove his head down to his exposed penis. Dean's cheeks were bright red as he took Randy into his mouth.

I opened my mouth wide, shocked at what I was seeing, and Randy shoved his tongue roughly into my mouth, his hands squeezing my breasts. He moaned softly against my mouth, and I watched him guide Dean's head up and down.

After several minutes of this strange situation, Randy yanked Dean's head off of him, sighing. I watched as Randy's cock slid out of Dean's lips, still completely flaccid. "Not going to work," he grumbled, sitting up. "Take care of my girl." He patted Dean's cheek and slid off the bed, stumbling as his feet hit the floor. He flung himself into the chair beside the bed and watched the two of us intently.

"Come on now," Randy said impatiently.

I looked at Dean, completely uncomprehending. He managed to look a mixture of embarrassed and angry before he leaned forward and kissed me roughly. The horrific truth dawned on me as he wrapped a hand around my waist.

"Dean," I murmured against his ear, pulling away. "We don't have to."

"Yes," Randy interrupted, "you do. Go down on her, Dean. Lick that sweet pussy good for me."

I was astounded when Dean actually began to follow orders, his fingers working at the button on my jeans and pulling them down my legs. He very gently began to stroke me through my panties. "It's ok," he told me, gently kissing my neck. "It's all right. Just enjoy it, ok?"

He gave me a feeble smile before sliding down my body. He hesitated a moment before hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties and pulling them down. I spread my thighs, glancing down at Dean who resolutely avoided my eyes.

He was so gentle. It was different from being with Randy. It took me several minutes, but I finally began to enjoy what he was doing. I arched my back, moaning softly, and Dean's hand slid up to cup my breast, his thumb gently stroking over my nipple.

I was so engrossed that I didn't notice Randy had moved until the bed sank down beside me, his fingers lightly tracing over the line of my face.

"Do you like that?" He asked in a low voice, pressing his lips to my neck. "Does it feel good?"

I didn't want to answer him, but I also didn't want him to become more aggressive in his questioning. "Yes," I answered.

"Touch him," Randy murmured, bringing his hand to the breast that Dean wasn't holding. "Wrap your hands in his hair and guide his head."

I reached down and gently stroked a hand through his hair before lightly twining a few strands of hair around my fingers. Dean lightly squeezed my breast, his tongue stroking more insistently against my clit.

"Is she wet enough for you?" Randy asked. Dean grunted in reply, keeping his mouth working. "Then quit playing around and fuck her," he ordered.

Dean glanced up at him briefly before his widened eyes swung to me.

"Come on," Randy continued. "Enough fucking around. Get to it."

Dean gently slid away from me, wiping his hand over his mouth. "Randy," he said, his voice low as he climbed up to his knees, "that's not a good idea. Cass is your girl, not mine."

"And I'm telling you to fuck her." He sat up and reached out, his hand shooting to Dean's crotch. He chuckled. "You're hard just from eating her out. You can't tell me that you don't want her." He squeezed, and I could see the outline of Dean's cock through his jeans.

He looked so uncomfortable. "Randy..."

"Shut up and do it," he growled, squeezing so hard that the veins in the back of his hands popped out. Dean whimpered slightly before Randy let go. "Don't make me tell you again," he warned.

"It's ok," I burst in, hating the pain that was etched on his face. "Dean, really. It's ok."

He unbuttoned his pants and kicked them off, followed by his boxers. I reached out and lightly began stroking him, surprised when Randy wasn't lying – Dean was already hard.

He covered his hand with mine and lightly guided my strokes for a few seconds before squeezing my hand and gently pulling it away. He rubbed his head through my lips, the expression on his face unreadable.

I pressed my hips towards him and he pulled back briefly before pushing forward, burying himself completely inside of me. I moaned quietly, feeling him fill me entirely, and watched the determination on his face as he remained still.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I'm sorry," I said softly.

He shook his head. "Don't apologize," he replied, his voice gruff. He glanced over at Randy before bending down and kissing me – the same soft, sweet kiss he'd given me in the kitchen. "He's passed out," he said in a low voice. "We should stop."

"We should," I agreed quietly, unsurprised to feel one of his hands slide between us and begin stroking my clit.

"Yes," he agreed, pushing forward the slightest bit.

"Dean," I moaned, arching my back and feeling myself sliding rapidly towards the edge.

"Yes?"

"Don't stop," I panted. "Please. Don't stop."

He whimpered softly and pushed forward again, his mouth finding mine. "This is such a horrible idea," he murmured, a small whine of pleasure in his voice.

"Don't think about it," I breathed. "Please, don't think about it."

His eyes met mine, and I could see the desperate lust and conflict shining in them. He paused for several seconds before his hips slid back and he thrust forward again. "You...God, you feel perfect. Better than I ever imagined."

I wound my hands in his hair and pulled his face down to mine for another kiss, pleased when he kissed me with just as much passion as I kissed him. He began thrusting a little faster, his breath coming in ragged pants.

He stroked his hands back through my hair, kissing me again. "Cass," he groaned, his hand picking up its speed. "I don't think I'll last much longer."

"It's ok," I assured him, reaching up to kiss him again. "Really. It's ok. Just keep going, please, keep going."

He buried his face in my neck, moaning wildly as he thrust into me roughly. I felt him throbbing inside of me and suddenly he paused, bringing his head up to kiss me again as he slammed into me one last time, spurting his orgasm deep inside of me.

He held me for several minutes, gently dotting kisses on my neck. "We," he murmured, "are so fucked."


	86. Chapter 86

He rolled off of me and lay beside me, facing me. He lightly traced his fingers down my side, an expression of deep sadness drawn on his face.

"Dean?" I asked quietly. He raised his eyebrows and nodded for me to continue. "What...what was..._that_...about?"

He sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"I get it, I do. It's just...what the fuck?"

He shook his head. "You were disgusted."

"No," I reassured him, reaching out and resting a hand on his chest. "I wasn't disgusted at all. I was...surprised. Is that a normal thing?"

"We're not gay," he said defensively.

"I didn't say you were. Even if you were...so what?" I shrugged. "I'm just asking you because I know you'll tell me the truth."

I wasn't sure he'd speak at first, but then he began in a quiet voice.

"You know about our history – the nice part of it, anyway. My home life wasn't great. Randy and his family let me move in with them. I was thirteen. It felt like a miracle to get out of that fucking house, and I was so grateful.

"It started a few months after I moved in. It was innocent at first, you know. We were horny teenagers. I would've fucked a hole in the wall at that age, so having a willing mouth..." he shrugged. "It was easy to ignore who it was attached to, and since he was so good about doing it for me I, of course, needed to return the favor.

"We went about it for several months until I met a girl. I wanted it to stop then, but he had different ideas. He, uh..." Dean gave a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "He told me he'd tell his dad that I was gay and that I'd made a move on him. His dad wasn't the most understanding person, and it would have led to me getting tossed out on my ass. It was an easy decision to make at the time.

"The problem was, once he knew he had me by the balls – the reciprocation stopped. I guess I got used to it as we grew up. It mostly stopped by the time we were sixteen, but every now and again..." He shrugged. "I guess he likes to remind me that he still has me by the balls."

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. I couldn't say that I was totally shocked. I wasn't sure at all what to say, so I settled on - "I'm sorry."

"Don't pity me, ok? Just don't. I did what I had to do to live a somewhat-normal life."

The room went quiet for a few minutes, except for Randy's light snoring. "I should go get cleaned up," I said softly.

He stroked a hand down my side. "Are you sure you're ok?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?"

"I'll be fine." He reached up and stroked my hair out of my face. "You know that's never going to happen again, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I tried to smile. "You didn't make me forget my own name, though," I teased. "I still know just who I am."

He chuckled. "Well damn. My one opportunity, and I failed miserably."

I tried to laugh. "No," I said sadly. "No, you didn't fail."

He swallowed hard, nodding towards the bathroom. "Go get cleaned up."

"Will you be here when I get back?"

He shook his head. "I should go to my bed, get some sleep."

I paused, knowing the answer before I asked – but I couldn't stop myself from asking. "Can I come with you?"

He closed his eyes. "No, honey. No, you can't come with me. You've got to stay here."

I reached out and grabbed his hand. "Please stay here with me. Please don't leave me alone with him."

"It's a bad idea for me to be here when he wakes up."

"And it's not a bad idea for _me_ to be here when he wakes up?"

He sighed heavily. "Go get cleaned up, all right? I'll think about it."

Hesitantly, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. "Cass," he said warningly. "Go."

I slid out from between the two of them and made my way to the shower. I tried to move quickly, fervently wanting Dean to stay and thinking that if I just moved quickly enough I could convince him to do so. I knew that there was going to be trouble when Randy woke up, and I didn't want to go through it alone. I was so tired of going through it alone.

To my great relief, Dean was still there when I walked back into the bedroom. He'd put his boxers back on and was smoking a cigarette, obviously unhappy.

"You stayed," I said, smiling. He nodded and patted the bed beside him. Randy groaned and rolled away from the two of us.

"Turn the fucking light off and shut up," he grumbled.

I glanced at Dean, who shrugged and gestured me towards the bed more insistently. I crawled into the bed, doing my best not to jostle either of the men. I lie facing Dean, trying hard to keep my body from touching Randy's.

I reached out and grasped Dean's hand tightly. After a moment, he adjusted his hand and twined his fingers with mine.

"Totally fucked," he repeated, squeezing my hand.

I moved closer to him. "Right now, I just don't care."


	87. Chapter 87

I woke up with a hand wrapped tightly around my throat.

"Did you like it?" Randy growled in my ear. "Did he make you come the way I do?"

"No," I answered his second question, grateful that he'd staggered them that way.

He laughed maliciously. "I fucking knew he couldn't."

I realized then that he had pulled my leg up over his hips and was pressing insistently against me, his fingers gently stroking my clit. "I guess I'll just have to take care of it myself."

He roughly thrust up into me, bringing his mouth to my neck. I closed my eyes and squeezed Dean's hand urgently, praying that he'd wake up. I was rewarded when I heard him inhale sharply and felt him stretch.

Unfortunately, Randy noticed too. "Turn on the light," he snapped.

"Why?" Dean groaned.

"So you can see how a real man fucks a woman, you fucking faggot."

My mouth fell open and I was about to say something – something along the lines of the fact that Dean hadn't chosen to suck his dick, but he'd sure chosen Dean for that job instead of me – but sensing that, Dean gripped my hand tightly in a silent warning. Wordlessly, he rolled away from me and clicked on the bedside lamp.

Randy stroked my hair back off of my neck, resting his head on my shoulder, and I could feel him smiling at Dean as he thrust up into me.

"All that pent-up frustration, and you can't even make her fucking come. You're really pathetic, you know that?"

Dean met his eyes blandly before looking away.

"Did you know," Randy continued, speaking softly in my ear, "that he'd been asking me for a week if he could fuck you? He said that it would just be a one-time thing; he just couldn't get you out of his head." He squeezed my breast roughly, rubbing me more insistently. "I know how that is, and since you've been such a good girl lately, I thought you wouldn't mind. You really do go above and beyond to keep your boys happy."

Dean's cheeks started to turn red again, and I realized that this had all just been another little plot of theirs. At least he had the good sense to be embarrassed by being found out.

"I didn't know it would be tonight," Dean said in a low voice. "He never told me that he agreed. I was going to ask you first, I promise."

"Don't talk to her," Randy snapped, yanking my head back and scraping his teeth along my neck. "You're not good enough to speak to her. All that pitiful whining and mewling, pleading with me like a child to play with _my_ favorite toy, and then you can't even handle it properly. You blow your wad early, disappoint her – and disappoint me."

I wanted to believe Dean, especially after all that we had been through – but 'all that we had been through' was precisely why I couldn't believe him. I slid my hand away from his, and Randy chuckled.

"You lose," he said gleefully, punctuating that statement with a particularly vicious thrust. "You sit there and watch me take the spoils of war, you pathetic fucking faggot."

I closed my eyes and just prayed for it to be over. This whole night, this whole fucking life – I just wanted to be done with it. I was tired. I was so goddamn tired. Every time I thought things were getting better, they ended up spiraling out of control and twisting into a horrific parody of what I'd thought they were.

"Come on, baby," Randy was panting in my ear. "I can't hold out much longer. Are you going to come for me?" The pressure of his fingers increased. "Hmm?"

"Not tonight," I muttered, feeling sick. "Just...not tonight."

"Cassidy," he replied sternly.

"I can't. Not in front of _him_." I spat the words out as if they tasted foul in my mouth.

"Yes you can," Randy murmured. "Yes you can. Just close your eyes. Pretend he's not here. Let me make you feel good."

I didn't have much of a choice. I sensed that I was on the edge of becoming one of the targets of his anger, so I did what he said – I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything that would help. I was rewarded with a pitifully small orgasm, but it was an orgasm. Randy finished shortly after.

"Now get the fuck out," he said in a low voice, holding me tightly. "You had your chance. You leave Cass and I alone. I'll deal with you in the morning."

I still couldn't look at Dean. I kept my eyes shut, just wanting him to leave. I wanted to turn the light back off and be as alone as I could possibly get these days.

I heard him sigh and felt the bed rise up as he stood. "It wasn't what you thought. I promise."

"Shut the fuck up," Randy snapped. "I didn't tell you to speak on your way out – just get the fuck out."

The room went quiet for several seconds and I heard Dean's footsteps retreat out the door, the soft click of the latch signifying that he'd left.

Randy yawned in my ear. "Turn the light off, babe. Let's try to get a few hours of sleep, all right?"

I followed his instructions without comment. He fell asleep again almost immediately, completely oblivious to my pain.

In the end, it was probably better that way. If he tried to touch me in those moments, I think I would've truly lost it.

As the sun rose, painting the room in rosy shades of gold and pink, I promised myself I would never trust either of them again.


	88. Chapter 88

I woke up to Randy screaming.

"DID YOU REALLY FUCKING _THINK_ THAT I WOULDN'T REALIZE WHAT YOU WERE DOING? CHRIST, DEAN. USE YOUR GODDAMN HEAD."

I was shocked when Dean began screaming back. Randy must have been at him for some time to make him lose his temper like that.

"I DID USE MY GODDAMN HEAD; CAN YOU SAY THE SAME? THIS LIFE ISN'T WHAT I AGREED TO, AND YOU KNOW IT. I'M NOT JUST GOING TO SIT AROUND AND BE YOUR FUCKING ERRAND BOY, BE HER FRIEND. WE AGREED THAT I'D BE MORE THAN THAT, AND SO FAR NOTHING IS FUCKING CHANGING. IT _NEVER_ FUCKING CHANGES WITH YOU!"

"SO FUCKING LEAVE, YOU FUCKING QUITTER. WALK OUT ON THIS LIKE YOU WALK OUT ON _EVERYTHING_ ELSE."

"YOU KNOW WHAT? I THINK I FUCKING WILL, YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER."

Angry footsteps filled the house, and I heard the front door open.

"YOU WALK OUT THAT DOOR, DON'T BOTHER COMING BACK."

I winced as the door slammed hard enough to shatter one of the small panes of glass. After several moments, I heard Dean's car start up and peel out of the driveway.

"GODDAMNIT," Randy exploded, followed by a dull thud. He'd hit something. More clean up for me.

Randy's footsteps stomped up the stairs, and I found that I couldn't even be afraid. I was beyond fear at this point, I was simply accepting the inevitable. The inevitable was that Randy was pissed off, and he was going to hurt me.

Fine. Maybe he'd kill me and end this misery once and for all. There was no point to anything anymore. Life would only bring more suffering, more pain. I was tired. I had no one to turn to. It was all...meaningless.

"Dean's gone," he announced as he walked into the room. "I'm sure you heard."

"Yes," I replied cautiously.

He took a deep breath and crossed the room to sit on the bed beside me. "I want you to know that this is not your fault, and I am not angry with you."

What? I sat up and looked at him, curious.

"It never should have gone this far. I didn't believe that Dean had the balls to ask me to sleep with you after I made it completely clear that you were mine. I decided to try and...push it...to see if he would actually do it. I needed to know if I could really trust him with you, you know? I never planned to let him, but I stupidly had a little too much to drink last night and passed out before I could stop it."

He leaned over and lightly covered my thigh with his hand. "I'm sorry that you had that happen to you. It's completely my fault, and I will take whatever punishment you see fit to give me."

He looked falsely abashed, and I think he expected me to tell him that it was all ok.

"Is my bedroom done?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow. He hadn't expected me to ask this. "Not yet."

"Please go work on it. I'd like it finished today. And then I'd like you to leave me alone." I stood up and began making my way to the bathroom.

He remained silent, conceivably accepting this edict. I froze by the bathroom door and spun around to look at him, still sitting on the bed watching me. "Yes?" He asked.

I shook my head, trying so hard to bite back the words that desperately wanted to spill out of me.

In the end, I couldn't do it.

I shook my head. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

He sighed and raised an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."

I tried to start out slowly and calmly, making my points as clearly as possible. "You tell Dean that this is going to be a life we all share. You force me to be a part of this sick little fantasy, and then you refuse to let Dean and I get close at all. You keep changing the rules as time goes on. How do you expect us to follow the rules when you can't even tell us what they are at any given time?" My voice had risen and I was shaking with the effort of holding back my anger.

"You need to get your head straight," I continued. "You can't keep telling Dean and I different things and expecting us to behave according to different rules. We're not in a vacuum. You need to decide if you want us to be a family or if you want me to be yours. You can't have it both ways, and if you don't see that you're a fucking idiot."

His face had contorted into an ugly expression of anger, his face and neck turning brick red. He bit his lower lip and inhaled sharply. "Cassidy," he said in a low voice, "that's the last time you'll speak to me like that, do you understand?"

I deflated again immediately. "Yes," I replied, wrapping my arms around my chest.

He stood up, and I retreated further towards the bathroom instinctively. He raised his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. "I'm going to go work on finishing up your bedroom. You'll get what you asked for – I'll give you some time. But let me make something clear – when I decide that you're coming back to me, you come without complaints – do you understand?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes," I spat, disgruntled.

He nodded. "Things are going to change now that Dean's not here. You'd better remember that it's going to just be you and I. Start treating me with respect, or things will get very bad for you."


	89. Chapter 89

I listened to the soft 'shunk' sound of the pneumatic nail gun he was using and contemplated running upstairs and seeing if I could wrestle it out of his hands to see how far I could drive a nail into his skull.

Suffice it to say, I was mildly irritated by this turn of events.

I closed my eyes. This wasn't going to accomplish anything. I didn't know if Dean was going to be back, and it might just be Randy and I for the foreseeable future. He'd already made it abundantly clear that he wasn't going to put up with much of my shit.

So I had to keep my head together. Like I'd had to do for so many weeks now – I realized that I'd lost count. Had it been three? Four? Time moved so slowly, yet slipped away from me so quickly.

I didn't noticed that the sounds of construction had stopped above my head.

"Cass?" Randy called down the stairs, his voice low, suspicious. "Everything all right?"

"Fine," I yelled back, trying to shake myself out of my mood. The last thing I needed was for him to come down here and see what was wrong with me.

After a few tense moments, I heard his footsteps retreat back into the bedroom. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had a few minutes of reprieve.

I tried to keep myself busy, to ignore the ache and anger that was boiling through my chest.

I couldn't believe that he would leave me here like that. He knew my pain; he knew my fear, and yet he still chose to walk out the door. I should have seen it coming, and that made me even more angry. I kept trusting these assholes, over and over again, to do the right thing – and they always disappointed me. I wasn't sure why I kept trying to make the best out of this situation.

The answer came to me with frightening clarity – it was all that I had. If I gave in to despair, I wouldn't want to live any longer. In spite of my bitter surface thought that it might be for the best, deep in my mind I knew that it simply wasn't an option. I wanted to live.

There was a loud thump from the hallway, and I went to go see my bedding in a heap on the floor. I glanced up and saw Randy staring down at me.

"Wash those," he said, nodding towards them. "Room's almost done."

I gathered them up without a word before realizing he wouldn't take that well. "Thanks," I mumbled, making my way down to the basement laundry room to get them started.

The rest of the day was oddly quiet. I wasn't allowed in my room right away, but Randy otherwise stayed away from me. He even ate dinner in a different room, allowing me much-needed time to process everything that had happened.

Around eight o'clock, he came to me and asked if I was ready to see my room. I told him that I was, and, gathering up my sheets and blankets, we went upstairs.

They'd obviously worked hard on it, and it was beautiful. I blinked several times, disbelieving my eyes. This place was mine.

"It's wonderful," I said quietly. "Thank you."

He nodded, dropping the sheets he was carrying on the bed. "I think you forget," he said slowly, "that I'm not some kind of a monster. I'm a man that you spent a year of your life willingly loving, and I would do..._anything_...for you."

I had no idea how to respond to that statement. I thought that he _was_ a monster; I barely remembered anything of the man I'd loved. There had just been too much since then.

He reached out and lightly brushed my hair out of my face. "We're in the same boat, you know. He left me too."

I didn't want to talk about this. Not with him. But I didn't think there was a way to avoid it. So I swung my eyes to him. "I'm sorry," I lied.

He shook his head. "Things have gotten so screwed up," he continued in a low voice. "I've been trying so hard, and I still feel you slipping away from me. I don't know what to do. I..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. "I can't lose you too." He met my eyes, a profound sadness deep within his gaze. "Please."

Something inside of me broke, and I flung my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. I craved comfort, I craved familiarity, and in that moment I craved _him_. "We can't keep doing this," I said against his skin.

"I know," he agreed, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly. "I know."

I clutched at his back, trying to keep my anger and my fear at bay. Irrationally, I thought that if I just held onto him a little tighter I could push it all away.

"I love you," he said, gripping me just as tightly. "And I'm sorry, Cass. I am so fucking sorry. I really screwed things up, and I...I have no fucking clue how to go about fixing it."

"Just hold onto me," I replied, desperately trying to hold back tears. "Just hold onto me, and everything will be all right."

He half-laughed, half-sobbed, and clutched me tighter.

Looking back, it was a natural progression. But at the time, I was genuinely shocked when he started kissing me. I returned his kiss without thought, pushing out all of the mixed-up emotions I'd been feeling.

"Can we...?" He asked quietly next to my ear. I could feel that he was aroused, and to my amazement – I was, too.

"Yes," I replied softly, nodding as I pressed my lips against his again.

He wasted no time scooping me up and carrying me back to his bedroom, putting me down onto the bed. We managed to undress, barely pulling our lips apart. There was great emotion, great passion in every movement we made – but still, we both moved slowly, restrained.

I hadn't wanted sex in a very long time, and I expected the initial rush of lust to fade. It only grew the longer we were entwined, and when he finally entered me I cried out and gripped him tightly, already on the verge of an orgasm.

He paused and stared down at me, a small smile on his face. It struck me in that moment how different he looked from the past few weeks. He looked like someone I actually knew, not the stranger that had been holding me captive.

"What?" I breathed. "What is it?"

He shook his head, bending down and kissing me. "I love you." He nuzzled his face into my neck and rolled his hips, moving in me slowly. I wrapped my legs around him and turned to kiss him, moaning softly against his lips.

My last conscious thought – before thought became impossible, thanks to a delightful combination of Randy's hands and hips – was that if he could only stay like this forever, I wouldn't have to lie when I said that I loved him.


	90. Reviews

I wanted to address a review I just received. It's a guest review, which is why I have to respond this way instead of privately.

"Something needs to seriously happen soon! This story seems like it should be over with already!"

Normally I try to be nice, but the reviews for this story have really brought out the vicious streak in me. If you're bored with it, if you feel it's dragging, if you think I'm a terrible author and hate my guts - STOP READING. _It's not that hard._ I do this for fun, and most people seem to enjoy me pulling a longer thread of storytelling. That's my style.

If it's not for you, it's not for you. No harm, no foul. I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But coming along with the express intent of having me change my style, change what I'm doing and how I work - it's pointless. Absolutely pointless. I appreciate constructive criticism, but this is not that.

Everything is building. There isn't ANY pointless action right now, and guess what - we are winding down to the end. It's just nonsense like this that pisses me off to no end. I do not understand why you continue to read/review something that apparently makes you miserable. I don't understand this mentality of "I hate everything about this, but I'm going to read every word you post and hate every minute of it."

Do you not have anything better to do with your time? Seriously?

Rant over. I swear, I'm usually much nicer than this, I swear.

For everyone else who has been reviewing, tweeting, and reading - thanks.


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